nm 

if fii. . 

J/i 











y' 

r 







'y/f 


> \ ^ 

. '> * 0 V 0 • v'i' ^.*81 

''VI''- «:,, '■’"J!'. 


0 


- 

. • • 1 f~> y ^ 

A* 'O’ * 3 N 





$ 


® %y x) 3 ^ 

•? ,- 0 ^ C”' 

fe>'= 

•^''>-» <t ^ ^ 


*,<^^' ‘■‘V, .•' ^°' .. v.;t. 



V 




^ QUra "* "■> v\'' ^ r ^ 

CP ;? >^'Blilli^ ^ .P ,<V ^ J V 

;V“'^V"'”~‘%<"''> “" 

V /y^/^ 'i *jj 0 ^ ^rsTs^ ^ y. 

V as^Af //y~. 



V 

^ 0 



o ^ -tV 

- ^ xvvsi^ ^ 

O V A- V /Av» 

N ^ ^ ® ^ ^ " A '^> ^ ® ' ' ’' .o'^ S ^ ^ 'C' 



V' 


='5m* / '• 

‘ .0 




/> 

^ 

; v^'* 

<!:^ "A- ^ °^- * Ai, . 

^ ^ '« * 0 , y- .<>''• ^ C‘ V 8 ^ " 



y 

C* > 

O if r. 

> \0 y C‘ 

, • A .V »'jA®S#’ X" * >fs^\ •^^■ 

’' ' A' ,<'^ . “ A- V “ 



* -A oV 

' ^ " <0 
5 0* C " ^ -P 

I > ft 





V 'A 


\ I H 





6 


V .'I 


^ ^ f 








4f ^ oV- -^- 

,.\'' ..V. "o p- .# .V- 

/ ^ 3 S 0 xV ^ ^ » A > ^ '''. 

"O ''-fi - ^ .j> /V ^ <• '^V 

■ X'?'''’ * ■^<' i ^ '5' 

' ^ \\* O M / / JVrS \ \ 1*1 

1-^ 4\v' J r^ O w,y/ Wfi ^ 

A 



ci' ^ 

Jl * a'C' 

^ /I- ^ -i^. 


%/*7ro’' /■ ,. 4 /*.. 

. ✓ ^ ^ ^ ^ 


1> - V> ^ 

V >» r^ 

vsL..y^. ^ c 


O. 


4 0 c::^ 

\ y<. ✓ 


<r <?*. 

: 



* 4 

\ 




y 's 






; oo' 
S}5 

^ ^ . -. ^.v ^ 

® ' O'^ S '' '^ ’ ' /, '^6 ^ ^ « A 

iP \' «) 

^ Z 

y 

s 



f." .X^' v^ 

■'-4 .« 0 

a'' ,'-'»)? ^o. .0- c® 


^ <r 



□ I iii 
















THE HEAD OF THE FIRM 



fepEpft. ^ ;b?^f •. iMrV? *'. > -, 

W‘ ' '•■■<' A' '■ ,' l»P V 

■ ■ V*; .1f-T<'T '.? 






THE HEAD OF THE FIRM 


"/ 

MES. J. H. EIDDELL 


01 - ^ 



R 2 r> 


3 Sr i C 


KY 


NEW YORK 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 

150 Worth Street 



COPTBIGHT, 1891, BY 

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY 


TROW DIRECTORY 

FRINTINQ AND BOOKBINDINQ COMPANY 
NEW YORK 


THE HEAD OF THE FIKM 


CHAPTER 1 

“IF TIMOTHY FERMOY.” 

Whit-Monday, bright, brilliant — fine as fine could 
be ! From the London excursionist’s point of view an 
ideal Whit-Monday ! 

A scorching, sun to — in his own artless phrase — 
“bite his back,” a bitter east wind to temper the heat, 
dust enough to render a pause at each favorite way- 
side tavern not merely excusable but necessary, plenty; 
of company in brakes, wagonettes, spring carts, and 
even costers’ barrows to beguile the long, way with 
shout and laughter, song and repartee ; the unearthly 
noise drawn from an agonized cornopean, or the gay 
and festive tones of some wheezy concertina lightly 
touched by the funny gentleman indispensable to each 
party, who is capable, in his own opinion and that of 
his friends, of adorning any circle, and meanwhile 
kindly delights his own. 

Never, surely, was there a finer Whit - Monday, 
which, after all, is the holiday of the year to London- 
ers, tho day thought of, looked forward to, and back 
upon with feelings of intense satisfaction. 

On the especial Whit-Monday when this story opens 
people had poured out of town in their thousands and 
hundreds of thousands. Every road leading to any 
place of popular resort was alive with excursionists. 


6 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


At the railway termini trains filled with happy, 
eager men and women and children were despatched 
to the accompaniment of waving handkerchiefs, hearty 
cheers, and lusty choruses. The river steamboats w^ere 
crowded with passengers. London proper was a city 
of the dead. Shops and offices were closed. It was 
possible to walk down the middle of Fleet Street and 
Cheapside ; the teeming life of England’s metropolis 
had temporarily forsaken London and left the great 
city to silence and solitude. Even in the suburbs 
there prevailed a quiet foreign to neighborhoods in 
which tradesmen’s carts usually flashed about like 
meteors, dashing round corners and putting timid 
ladies and elderly gentlemen in terror of their lives. 

Noon had come and gone. It w’as that usually busy 
hour when working-class fashion ordains there shall 
be much running to and from adjacent bars ; when 
children are despatched with jugs and bottles for a 
liquor which appears more to be desired than water 
in the desert by the arid throats of an industrial pop- 
ulation ; but on that fine Whit-Monday there seemed 
no children left in London to run with two pennies or 
four pennies clasped tight in their little hands for 
pints or pots or any measure whatsoever. 

The children were out of town and the pennies too. 
The accustomed taverns were deserted in favor of more 
rural houses, where beer could be scarcely drawn fast 
enough to assuage the thirst of Loudon on this its gi- 
gantic holiday. 

Ill a back street of Battersea not one human being 
was astir. A dog with a rusty coat and a mere wisp 
of a tail was investigating the state of the gutters ; on 
a doorstep a cat sat in the sun waiting either for the 
return of her family or such time as the spirit might 
move her to start on some marauding expedition ; at 
one first-floor window a blackbird with ruffled feathers 
stood silent on the floor of his cage, thinking, it might 
be, of the woodland home he would never see again ; 
on some of the sills protected by liliputian railings or 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


7 


greater triumphs of artistic skill, which probably gave 
more pleasure to their owners than deer park or chase 
ever conferred on a lord of the soil, bloomed gay flow- 
ers that seemed to shrink and shiver as the east wind 
swirled along, the silence as wonderful, and the sense 
of utter desolation more wonderful still. 

In the heart of a populous city the absence of all 
signs of life affects the imagination with a deeper feel- 
ing of loneliness than any expanse of desert, or wild 
waste of moorland, or desolate stretch of seashore 
when the waves are receding from it and night is 
drawing slowly on. 

About half way up this street, which was a thor- 
oughfare, there turned another, which was a cul de sac, 
being fenced in at the end by a high wooden paling 
that the bad boys of the neighborhood were always 
trying to climb, and where they were always coming 
ignominiously to grief. 

Whether the builder of this short street lost heart, 
or the mortgagees prematurely foreclosed, it is dif- 
ficult to say, but one thing is certain, viz., that the 
“ snug little estate fully ripe ” [vide advertisement) was 
not developed to its full extent. 

After the enterprising leaseholder had erected twelve 
six-roomed houses, more like each other than peas in a 
pod, on one side of the road, and twelve similarly at- 
tractive residences on the other, he broke out into a 
double-fronted mansion, and then fled either to the 
bankruptcy court or to yet riper plots, leaving eligi- 
ble sites for eight dwellings on the left and six on 
the right-hand side vacant for some one more san- 
guine or possessed of a larger credit than himself to 
utilize. 

In the neighborhood of Battersea vacant spaces are 
not long permitted to lie idle ; therefore one was with- 
out delay converted into a playground for the juven- 
ile inhabitants, and a corner where their elders beat 
their mats and carpets, while the tenant of the pala- 
tial mansion which boasted a window on each side of 


8 


THE HEAD OF THE FIBM. 


the front-door promptly proceeded to erect a lean-to 
against the gable of his house and boundary wall of 
his small yard. 

The cost of this shed did not run into much money. 
A few lengths of “ quartering,” a good “deal” in six- 
foot egg-chests, an equally admirable bargain in a lot 
of hemp carpeting, faded but sound, a few pounds of 
nails, some gallons of gas tar, half a yard of Thames 
gravel, a couple of second-hand window-sashes, and be- 
hold ! there spring like magic from the earth an im- 
promptu green-grocer’s shop and stable, both capable 
of being locked up at night, and both “as snug as 
snug could be.” 

When the landlord’s agent saw these architectural 
triumphs he accepted the position in a proper spirit 
and raised the rent. 

It was the only thing he could well do, for the in- 
genious tenant was possessed of a strong will, a deep 
hoarse voice, and a lordly temper, and though he ac- 
quiesced in the justice of paying a trifle for the use of 
the land, would have resented and resisted any attempt 
to interfere with the annex of which he himself had 
been the designer and builder. 

All in good time he worked up a “ round.” There 
are men in London who make a living by getting to- 
gether a connection and then selling it. He was but 
a beginner — a mere tyro — with only a set of weights 
and scales, a few sacks, bushel and half-bushel bas- 
kets, a barrow donkey and old set of harness, yet for 
these items, his few customers, and the makeshift shed 
he ere long received thirty pounds current coin of the 
realm, with which he departed to work up another and 
better business elsewhere. 

On that bright Whit-Monday, though the double- 
fronted house was closely shut up, the door of the shop 
stood open. 

Passing from the street bright with sunshine into 
the rude shed was like going from the light of day 
into some dark cool grotto, but when once his eyes be- 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


9 


came accustomed to the gloom a person could see 
objects even at the extreme rear clearly enough. 

In its way the store was well stocked. If it con- 
tained nothing rich or rare there were plenty of those 
articles which in such a neighborhood are always in 
request. 

Coal and coke, of course, with bundle-wood and a 
few wheels, though the latter did not find much favor ; 
bins half full of potatoes ; dried herbs suspended from 
the roof, breathing forth, even in death, a pleasant 
fragrance ; Spanish onions were there in sieves, and 
spring onions in bundles ; on a board sloping toward 
the window were ranged vessels filled with small 
salad ; while radishes, round French breakfast and 
long red, blushed crimson amid water-cresses plucked 
fresh that morning from streams which trickled slowly 
to the Wandle. 

There were not wanting signs either to prove that 
a considerable amount of perishable stock had been 
recently disposed of. 

Half-bushel and bushel baskets, evidently not long 
previously full of green stuff, stood piled up empty. 
One solitary orange marked the spot wlience a goodly 
company of its fellows had disappeared ; not a nut, 
whether Barcelona, Brazil, or cocoa, was to be seen ; 
only half a dozen shrivelled and wizened apples were 
left at the bottom of a capacious basket ; quarts of 
unripe gooseberries had gone to provide the necessary 
pudding or pie accounted an essential dish in a Whit- 
Sunday dinner ; only two stone bottles of ginger-beer, 
at a penny apiece, kept each other company, and not a 
lemon could have been purchased, even in exchange 
for sixpence current coin of the realm ! 

Since the previous Friday trade had apparently 
prospered in Field Prospect, as the stunted street was 
called. Indeed anyone versed in the signs which indi- 
cate failure or success might have gathered at a glance 
that trade had been good for a sufficiently long time 
to justify the proprietor of such an establishment 


10 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ going out ”on Whit-Monday with a clear conscience, 
a full purse, and a merry heart. 

Nevertheless the owner had not gone out. Instead 
she sat among her empty baskets on an inverted bushel 
measure, knitting a prosaic stocking, and as she knit 
she sang, not joyously, or yet with the sad song of the 
robin when autumn leaves are falling, and the most 
mournful season of the year preaches to us of fading 
life and coming death, but softly, as one who tells some 
pleasing, melancholy tale such as youth delights in, 
merely because youth fails to realize that the melan- 
choly may chance to be all its own when the delight 
has departed. 

She, the owner, the singer, was young, just two-and- 
twenty, with most of life presumably before, and cer- 
tainly a vast amount of sad experience behind her. 

Was she pretty? If her features were analyzed, 
“No.” If anyone took her face on a whole, “Yes,” 
and much more. 

Once her hair had been red — not the brilliant orange 
scarlet that remains unchanged till time powders it 
with snow — but the deeper, darker, richer red that 
mellows into a lustrous brown flecked with gold as the 
light shifts and changes upon it. Her skin was fair, 
with the exceeding fairness that often accompanies 
hair such as hers. 

Not all the long exposure to sun and rain, not the 
piercing north wind or the bitter east had as yet been 
able to mar its pure white. She was much freckled, 
and her hands were browned, but in other respects 
she might have been sitting at ease all her life, so del- 
icate was her complexion. Curling naturally, her 
wavy hair wandered in soft little ripples over a fore- 
head which might have been thought somewhat too 
broad for beauty ; her mouth was large, and her nose 
belonged to no recognized order, yet looking in that 
frank face, lit up with such wonderful eyes, who could 
suspend admiration in order to criticise the other feat- 
ures. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


11 


Those ey^BS were the glory of the girl’s face — kind, 
good, faithful eyes, soft and tender, of that clear, limpid 
brown which is so seldom seen after early childhood. 
Large were they too, and loving— not merry, but still 
with a smile playing at hide-and-seek in their depths, 
ready to leap out at the faintest pretext. She had 
dark eyebrows, and long, dark laslies ; white, even 
teeth, and a round, pretty chin ; but when all which 
could be said about her was said, it was to her eyes 
every one returned, eyes that looked as a clear, deep 
river looks when the sun is shining on it — eyes that 
were indeed but windows through which the beholder 
might gaze straight down into a nature, strong, unself- 
ish, truthful, and loving. 

And yet she dwelt in that mean street, and made 
her living in that rough shed. 

Yes ; for we are rightly taught it is not alone in 
king’s palaces God’s elect are to be found. 

The smallest room, or straitest of earth’s narrow 
places is wide enough and large enough to contain a 
lovely spirit, a meek and lowly heart. 

I have said she sang, but it was only as one might 
play with the soft pedal so much down that the melody 
heard seemed scarce the echo of an air. 

Yet it was a pretty old tune, with fine flowing words, 
fit to be flung to the winds on a hillside, or lustily 
trolled in fields where the swath, just cut, lay thick, 
and mowers, sharpening their scythes, paused to listen, 
and then took up the breezy chorus — true of and for 
all time : 


“ While the sun shines make hay, 

While the sun shines make hay, 

For ye cannot expect in December 
To gather the blossoms of May."*’ 

Gently the knitting-needles clicked — a not unmusi- 
cal accompaniment — then this girl’s ball of worsted fell 
to the ground and she stooped to pick it up, ceasing 
her lay. * 


12 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


When she resumed her work she sang once more, 
but this time a mere commonplace ditty, which per- 
haps to her young heart seemed pleasingly sentimental. 

“ Only the old, old story 
Whispered in mine ear, 

Above was the summer glory 
Around the green wheat in ear. 

“High in the cloudless heaven 
The lark sang loud and clear, 

And we were alone together — 

I — and my lover dear. 

“ Only as old a story 

As that which was whispered then ” 

At which supreme point her voice trailed off into 
silence, and the rose-tints mantled in her cheeks while 
she rose to greet a man who stepped across the thresh- 
old and threaded his way through the baskets after 
the fashion of one accustomed to such exercise. 

“ So you are not holiday-making, Aileen ? ” he said. 

“Indeed, no, Mr. Philip,” she answered, in a soft, 
even voice, which held a charm in its tones ; “I went 
holiday-making once on Whit-Monday, and I never 
want to go again. Won’t you be pleased to sit down, 
sir,” and she indicated the bushel measure, which was 
the best apology for a chair the shed boasted. 

“Thank you, I will find a seat for myself,” he an- 
swered, turning a basket bottom upward. “ And you 
are all alone ? ” 

“ All alone, sir. They have gone, every one of them, 
to Hampton Court.” 

“lam glad of that, for I want to speak to you.” 

Unmistakably a gentleman, equally unmistakably 
the young fellow was not a lover— not Aileen’s, at all 
events. 

His manner to her, though perfectly friendly, more 
than friendly indeed — familiar— ^was entirely innocent 
of even that harmless admiration a man of any rank 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


13 


may feel for a pretty girl in whatsoever station it may 
have pleased God to place her. 

Aileen’s manner also, while equally unembarrassed, 
was that of an inferior toward a superior — of one who 
felt there lay so broad a gulf of caste between them 
that she could speak quite freely and naturally with- 
out the slightest fear of misconception. 

That they knew each other very well — most inti- 
mately, indeed — was beyond doubt. Had she been his 
foster sister the sympathy and understanding between 
the curiously assorted pair could not have seemed 
greater. 

There was not the slightest awkwardness in their 
intercourse, no consciousness on either side, as, in the 
most natural and simple way possible, he asked : 

“ Are you not doing so well as you were, Aileen ? ” 

“I am doing a good trade, Mr. Philip,” the girl an- 
swered, “ but I do not get a bit forward — sometimes I 
think I never shall.” 

“ Why ? ” When two people understand each other 
few words suffice. 

“It is this way, sir: whatever I make goes out as 
fast as I can get it. We might all be comfortable and 
happy as the day is long, but we are nothing of the 
sort. I am sure the way things are, home is a misery.” 

“ So bad as that ? ” 

“ Yes, as bad as that. I have been thinking about 
it all morning and can see no light anywhere. May- 
be it is wrong of me to be troubling you after your 
goodness in helping me to buy this good round, 
but ” 

With a gesture the young man deprecated both the 
apology and the gratitude. 

“I wish it had been in my power to do more for 
you,” he said. 

“I know that, Mr. Phihp, well, though you have 
done more for me than I can ever thank you enough 
for.” 

“The round is a good round,” she went on, revert- 


14 THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 

ing to the original question; “the customers pay 
regularly and none ask for credit unless they are out 
of work, and when they get in again bring their money 
as fast as they can, poor creatures. No, it is not that, 
and I should not so much mind it all being spent if 
there were ever an hour’s peace or quiet. As much 
will be tossed away to-day as ought to keep the house 
for weeks, and it is the same always. Sometimes I feel 
I could walk out and never come back again. It is 
wrong, I dare say, I know it is wrong, but I can’t 
help it.” 

“ I have always thought,” said the young man, “you 
would be happier in a situation. If you were maid to 

some nice elderly lady ” 

“I’d ask nothing better, Mr. Philip, but then no 
wages I could ask would serve to maintain them here. 

No, I must stop where I am as I am. Who would see 
to them if I went away ? They would sell the busi- 
ness in a week and live on the best till all the money 
was gone, and then end in the workhouse likely as not. 
No, I must stay, I must ” and she stopped sud- 

denly. 

“ Do you dislike the business, Aileen ? ” 

“ No, sir ; why should I dislike what buys us food 
and clothes and firing, and keeps a roof over us ? 
What breaks my heart is that everything is so miser- 
able when it might be so different. The boys are 
growing up rough and rude and wild, and what can I 
do for them ? Mrs. Fermoy is vexed if I speak, she | 
thinks they can do no wrong. There is not one of 
them but Jack of the least help. Peter would not be 
so bad if someone would show him a good example ; 
but he is always copying Dick — smoking, swearing, 
drinking, and idling about the streets.” 

“ Nothing can be done for them, I suppose ? ” 

“ Nothing, sir ; and I take shame to have said as 
much as I have ; but there is no one except yourself 
that I can speak a word to, and my heart is so full and 
sore sometimes.” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


15 


Poor girl ! ” 

“ Don’t, Mr. Philip, don’t, please, or j^ou 'will make 
me cry, and what would be the use of that ? ” 

“ Not much, indeed. Tell me, is Mr. Parkyn still 
with you ? ” 

‘‘ He is, and I wish he was anywhere else.” 

“ Has he gone to Hampton Court ? ” 

“ He ! sir ; gone with our party, do you mean ? He 
is far too grand for that, and I don’t blame him either. 
For all he lodges with Mrs. Fermoy, Jack says he has 
seen him on the top of a four-in-hand among a lot of 
gentlemen. No, he went off early, all by himself, in a 
gray dust-coat, with field-glasses hung round him.” 

“What is he?” 

“ A betting man, I think. I am told they are one 
day up and another down ; but whether he is up or 
down I am greatly afraid Mr. Parkyn is not much 
good.” 

“I saw your stepmother last week.” 

“ So she said, sir.” 

“ I was returning from Godaiming, and at Clapham 
Junction she chanced to get into the compartment 
with me. We had some conversation, and she seemed 
annoyed that you do not marry Mr. Parkyn.” 

“I know she is, I know it well.” 

“She said she thought it would be an excellent 
match for you.” 

“I am sure she does.” 

“ And you, Aileen ? ” 

“What about me, Mr. Philip?” 

“ My mother would have wished to know all about 
you once, I think.” 

“And indeed, sir, j^our mother’s son is welcome to 
know all about me now. Mr. Parkyn has never asked 
me to marry him, and never will.” 

“But supposing he did.” 

“ I can’t suppose, Mr. Philip, that even a sham gen- 
tleman like him could ever want to have anything to 
do with a girl like me.” 


16 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ Still, should the impossible happen ? ” ^ 

“I’d say, ‘Thank you kindly, sir, but no’— for in- 
deed I could never take to him.” 

“ You are quite certain ? ” 

“ I am quite certain.” 

There ensued a pause, during which Aileen, with her 
pretty head bent down, tied and untied slip-knots in 
her worsted, while her friend Mr. Philip, taking out 
his pocketbook, searched among its contents till he 
found a scrap of newspaper. 

“ I think that ought to be seen to,” he said, handing 
her the cutting. 

“ What does it mean, sir ? ” she asked, after she had 
read it over. 

“I have not the faintest idea,” he replied. “Is 
there anyone who would be likely to leave him money ? ” 

The girl shook her head, then suddenly she seemed 
to see light. “Perhaps General Galvaine is dead, and 
has left him a legacy. He thought a lot of father.” 

“ General Galvaine is not dead. I saw his name in 
the paper only this morning.” 

“ Then I don’t know what to think of this,” said 
Aileen, and she read slowly down, as if to impress its 
sense on her mind, the following advertisement : 

“ If Timothy Fermoy, who, in the year 1860, kept a 
green-grocer’s shop in Horton Street, Kensington, will j 
apply to Messrs. Desborne & Son, Solicitors, Clock 
Lane, E. C., he will hear of something to his advantage.” I 

“ But my poor father is dead.” j 

“ Neither of us, Aileen, is likely to forget that. His 
daughter, however, is living.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ And if this notice means that there would have 
been any money coming to him, it means most proba- 
bly that there will be money coming to you. It may 
be, of course, that he is only wanted as having been 
witness to some deed; but in any case it would be 
right to call on these gentlemen and ascertain what 
the advertisement means. Shall I see them for you? ” 


TEE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


17 


I could not think of putting you to such trouble, 
IVIi’. Philip,” answered the girl, in her soft, pleasant 
voice. “ I must go to market in the morning and it 
is only a step across one of the bridges into the city.” 

The young man looked thoughtfully at her and then 
said : “ Yes,” not at all as agreeing to the “ step across 
one of the bridges,” but merely as regarding the ad- 
visability of a personal visit to Messrs. Desborne & 
Son. 

“ Had you not better lock this cutting up ? ” 

“If you could tell me the lock that would keep 
anything fast here, I would be forever grateful to 
you, Mr. Philip.” 

“ Do you mean to say your places are opened ? ” 

“ Dick has got a second key to my box and took five 
pounds out of it yesterday.” 

“ This is terrible, and I have not much that I can 
lend you.” 

“ I don’t want you to lend me a penny, thank you, 
sir. There is an old woman in the market always lets 
me have what I need when I am short, only it is con- 
stantly like beginning over again.” 

“Perhaps I had better write down Messrs. Des- 
bornes’ address for you and tear up this advertise- 
ment.” 

“ I can put it away, thank you, where nobody will 
ever think of looking.” 

“ Where is that ? ” 

“ In my Bible, Mr. Philip.” 


CHAPTER II 


IN THE BOROUGH MARKET. 

Early the next morning Jack and Aileen started for 
the market. It is a long distance from Battersea to 
the Borough, but they were well accustomed to the 
road, they and their smart little black donkey. Parole, 
which both girl and boy fondly believed to be the best 
fed, best harnessed, best groomed, best housed, and 
fastest goer in all London. 

As the donkey trotted through streets quiet and 
empty, before the traffic of the day had begun, Jack 
talked about Hampton Court and what he saw there, 
and what a grand time they had, and of how they were 
obliged to walk up Kingston Hill, because the liorses 
were tired ; and how some of the excursionists must 
needs go on the river and nearly got upset. Thousands 
of people, he said, went through the Palace ; the rooms 
were so full they could not get near the pictures. He 
liked the grounds best, and the Maze, he thought he 
would walk down there by himself one Sunday, or he 
might, with a suggestive look, take the train from Clap- 
ham ; it did not cost much. 

“ We will see what can be done, if you are a good 
boy, said Aileen ; “ but, oh. Jack, how I am to make 
up that money Dick took I can’t think. I was saving 
till the fruit came in, because you know how much we 
could have made last year about preserving time, and 
now every penny is gone, and I must borrow^ even for 
that we need this morning.” 

Jack had no comfort to offer. In its way the disaster 
was as great to this girl as the stoppage of a bank is 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


19 


to a depositor. Five pounds, an immense capital, now 
cast to the four winds of heaven by Dick, the irreclaim- 
able. 

“ He won’t come back this while,” observed the 
boy ; but even this certainty did not prove a solace to 
Aileen. 

If not at home he would be probably in some much 
worse place. 

“Ned says he’ll give him a good hiding,” went on 
the boy, but still Aileen kept silence. She knew that 
medicine ought to have been administered many a year 
before, and felt doubtful as to the effect of it, or any 
other domestic drug likely to be administered, espe- 
cially by Ned, who was as poor a moral doctor as any 
patient could desire to be under. 

“ Have you no money at all left. Ally ? ” asked Jack, 
when the long pause had become monotonous. 

“ Only a few shillings,” she answered. “ I gave all 
I had, except that five pounds, to your mother.” 

“ Couldn’t you have got some from Mr. Parkyn ? ” 

“No,” answered Aileen, so shortly that the lad cast 
about for some other subject of conversation. 

There are times when if one thing goes wrong some 
other thing is sure to follow suit. Joy is sufficient to 
itself, but sorrow loves company, and it was for this 
reason probably that when Aileen made her way to 
Mrs. Jeckles’s stand she found a total stranger in pos- 
session, who explained that the old lady had been taken 
bad on Sunday, that he was her nephew, and that his 
wife would stay in London “ for a bit ” to look after 
his aunt. 

“ What is the matter ? ” asked the girl. 

“The doctor didn’t rightly say, but my own notion 
is that it’s a break up. She has been an uncommon 
active woman, but no woman can go on forever. It is 
what we must all come to.” 

With the sun shining on the tower of St^ Mary 
Overie, w'hich rose in its stately proportions so high 
above where they stood and the graves of hundreds 


20 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


long dead close beside them, this general statement 
was not one easily controverted. Aileen, at all events, 
made no effort to prove Mrs. Jeckles’s nephew in error. 

She only spoke a few words of sympathy and turned 
away, wondering what she had better do under such 
unexpected circumstances. 

The matter w^as pressing. She could not go back 
empty unless she wanted to risk her trade ; she must 
try to get credit, a thing she had never done before, 
because credit is not a system of business which finds 
favor in the Borough Market. 

There was only one man in it she knew sufficiently 
well to ask for even a few days’ grace, and she did not 
feel at all certain that he would grant such a boon. 
However, the position had to be faced, and as there 
was no use in delaying her petition, Aileen walked 
round the flagged enclosure till she reached IVIr. 
Plashet’s stand. 

Mr. Plashet was the antipodes of Mrs. Jeckles, over 
the whole of whose ample person “ country ” was writ 
large, and whose tongue betrayed her ^vhenever she 
opened her mouth. 

jNIr. Plashet, on the contrary, stood a Londoner and 
gloried in the fact. To him there seemed no place 
like it, and no place within the bills of mortality or out 
of that boundary so chaiming as Southwark, and final- 
ly no place in Southwark so altogether desirable as the 
Borough Market and its environs. 

He was a very shrewd man of business, but he did 
not tlierefore consider little vices to be despised. On 
the contrary, he thought many of them were to be 
preferred to virtues. There was a bar near at hand 
he much affected, where “Irish” of a peculiarly soft 
and mellow flavor could be obtained, as well as a 
glass of port wine no alderman need have refused. 

Likewise there was a certain bar parlor, where a 
few friends often met in order to pass a convivial even- 
ing, in which he sang a good song with the best. Fur- 
ther, his admirers, who were numerous, affirmed that 


( 




THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


21 


he was an excellent judge of a play, that lie knew who 
could be depended on to win the next billiard contest, 
that he was acquainted with those who gave him sure 
tips concerning equine favorites, and had certain 
information about noted pugilists and the man who 
would walk away with Doggett’s coat and badge. 

In a word, he was a paragon of learning, which per- 
haps accounted for the fact that in general company 
his manners left something to be desired. “ Till you 
understood him,” said his friends, “anyone might 
think him a little short ” — a mark of great intellect 
doubtless, but one which had the disadvantage of 
occasionally causing him to be considered surly. 

In person he was tall, thin, and haggard-looking, 
with straight light hair, sallow complexion, and a gen- 
eral effect as if he had for a long time been burning 
his candle at both ends, which possibly was the fact. 

On that Whit-Tuesday morning he had a particular 
seedy appearance, while he talked to three other men 
who looked even more washed out than himself, not- 
withstanding their having evidently striven quite lately 
to “fix” such color as nature had vouchsafed them at 
the bar afore honorably mentioned. 

One of these gentlemen wore a tall hat, white, with 
a mourning band round it, that seemed to have been 
in the wars, which he took off at intervals, surveyed, 
and then stuck jauntily on his head again, with a sigh 
and a smile, inspired probably by memories of the 
preceding evening’s drive London ward in company 
with a merry party. 

When Aileen paused by Mr. Plashet’s stand, that 
autocrat acknowledged her shy “good-morning, sir,” 
with a nod that could not be considered promising. 

She did not mind this very much, however, because 
she knew the good man’s ways, but the strangers were 
a trial, and as she named the goods required and added 
“I’ll bring. what they come to next time,” her voice 
shook a little. 

Good or bad, Mr. Plashet took no notice of her 


22 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


words. He refrained equally from saying “ that will 
do” or “that will not do/’ “you can have what you 
want ” or “you cannot,” but took a short lounge into 
his crowded store with that lazy, swinging gait which 
passed among his admirers as the height of swelldom. 

“ Look alive, Jake,” he said to a burly individual 
who was leaning against some sacks of potatoes piled 
one on top of another, that formed an appropriate 
background to the picture ; but what Jake was to look 
alive about, Mr. Plashet did not condescend to explain. 
He only made a languid dive beneath his standing desk 
and came up with a long, thin book w'hich he opened 
and then began to write. 

Aileen waited. This was an experience quite out of 
her customary routine, yet she did not despair. No 
one knew better than she how odd the salesman could 
be, and she did not intend to meet a denial half-way. 

“ You went pleasuring yesterday, I suppose,” said 
Mr. Plashet, at last, pausing in his occupation to make 
the remark. 

“ No, sir ; but my money did,” answered Aileen. The 
reply was simple enough, but the effect it produced was 
great. 

All the men except Mr. Plashet, wdio smiled lan- 
guidly, burst out laughing, the white-hatted individual 
placing his hands on his knees, and bending himself 
almost double in his mirth. 

“ Blest if that ain’t a good one ! ” he exclaimed ; 
“ hanged if I know when Pve heard a better bit. So 
your money took Scot’s leave, did it, my dear ? ” 

“ Yes, it did,” Aileen answered, shortl}". 

“Well, well, don’t break your heart about it, there 
is more in the Bank of England — care killed a cat — 
though certainly history does not say when. Keally, 
you are a very pretty young woman. What’s your 
particular, darling ? ” 

“ I don’t drink,” was the reply. ^ 

“ It s time you began, then ; you’ll never learn 
younger.” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


23 


‘‘I never intend to learn at all,” retorted Aileen. 

“ Come, come, that's all very nice, but we know what 
it means.” 

“ Mind what you are about, Johnston,” interrupted 
Mr. Plashet, at this supreme moment. 

“Eh! Did you speak?” said Mr. Johnston, with 
affected surprise. 

“ I did. I told you to mind what you are about. 
If you don’t know a respectable girl when you see her, 
it is time you were taught.” 

“ And who could teach me ? ” asked Mr. Johnston. 

“ I could, and I will,” replied Mr. Plashet. 

“Oh, 3 "on, we know all about you,” returned Mr. John- 
ston ; which phrase, regarded — as for some inscrut- 
able reason it is by a certain class — as the very essence 
of wit, the three visitors had another explosion of mirth 
which effectually dispersed the gathering storm. 

“ No offence meant, miss, no offence taken, I hope,” 
said the gentleman in the white hat, removing his head- 
gear and making an elaborate bow as he spoke. 

“No offence taken,” answered Aileen, with frank 
civility. “ May I tell Jack to bring the baskets round, 
Mr. Plashet,” she added, determined to bring matters 
to a point. 

“Jake can take some of them to the car for you,” 
answered the arbitrator of her destiny for that hour. 

“ Perish the thought,” cried Mr. Johnston. “Here, 
Cox and Simonds, bear a hand 1 ” and before anyone 
could say a word, the three gay spirits were racing 
over the pavement with two bushel measures, Mr. Cox 
and Mr. Johnston carrying one, and Mr. Johnston and 
Mr. Simonds the other, the white -hatted gentleman 
thus bearing a double l3urden, perhaps by way of ex- 
piation. 

“Clear the course, clear the course 1” he shouted, 
as they rushed excitedly on. “ Keep out of the way 
or you’ll get run over,” and thus they reached- the 
street, Mr. Plashet shouting after them, “ Stole away 1 
stole away I ” followed by about a score of small lads 


24 


THE HEAD OF THE FIEM. 


and a couple of indignant porters, who saw in anticipa- 
tion their dues disappearing, and pursued with the 
intention of rescuing them by fair means or foul. 

Aileen had stopped, but to speak a word of grateful 
thanks to Mr. Plashet, and followed close on the heels 
of her cavaliers. 

Light of foot and unencumbered, she came up with 
them” as they were crying aloud as with one voice, 

“ Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack. Where the deuce are you, 
Jack? Who the deuce is Jack ? ” 

“ That is Jack on the other side, with the donkey 
cart,” explained the donkey cart’s owner. 

“ Have at him, then ! ” exclaimed Mr. Johnston, and 
at this word of command, the three warriors charged 
the crossing, as thej'^ had charged the market, bearing 
down all before them, and still pursued by the boys 
and the porters. 

“Jack,” said Aileen, “run with the baskets and 
sacks to Mr. Plashet — fast now ! and I will look after 
the donkey.” 

“Not while your humble servant is here to com- 
mand,” observed Mr. Johnston, striking an attitude. 

“ Will you oblige me,” he added, addressing his fol- 
lowing, “by leaving the coast clear. If you must 
admire, let it be from a suitable distance. Money is 
it ? Oh, with pleasure, but really I am afraid I have 
nothing less than a five-pound note. Can you oblige me 
with change? No? Then proceed to Mr. Plashet ” 

What he meant to say concerning Mr. Plashet, how- 
ever, can only be conjectured, for at a sign from Aileen 
the porters had already departed. 

“ I fear me you tipped those miscreants,” said Mr. 
Johnston, “ instead of leaving me to deal with them. 
Well, policeman, and what do you think of it all ? ” 

The policeman thus addressed did not answer. He 
only looked benignly over his stock at the three 
friends, Aileen, and the donkey, then said to the boys 
in a tone of authority, and with a side movement of 
his head : 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


25 


“ Come you, be off now.” 

“Yes; to your play or to your school,” supple- 
mented Mr. Johnston, “ though Tbelieve it is that ter- 
rible time called vacation. The future hopes of Eng- 
land,” he added, waiving his hands toward the young 
imps, “raw material.” 

“ Mighty raw,” remarked his Mend, Mr. Cox. 

“ They are what you were,” replied Mr. Johnston, 
severely. 

“ Very like an epitaph that, isn’t it ? ” was Mr. Cox’s 
retort. 

And so the foolish babble flew like chaff before the 
wind, while Aileen, after vainly essaying to assume 
control of Parole, stood a little apart waiting the ar- 
rival of her goods. 

They came ere long, and were built so scientifically 
in the cart that the donkey had not, as Jack observed, 
“ an ounce weight on his back,” and to remedy which 
defect, as doubtless he considered it, Mr. Johnston, 
after resigning Parole’s head to the boy, advanced 
toward Aileen and inquired if he might have the 
honor of handing her to her carriage. 

“We shall walk,” said the girl. 

“ Walk ! ” repeated Mr. Johnston, “ angels and min- 
isters of grace, where is the fairy godmother, where 
is the chariot, where the fairy steeds, where the gor- 
geous a23parelled menials, where the glass slippers, 
where, above all, the Prince ? ” 

“ That don’t much signify, as he ain’t here,” ob- 
served his third friend. Mi’. Simonds, candid as is 
the manner of friends. 

“ We will wish you good-morning, sir,” remarked 
Aileen, with a glance which took in Cox and Simmonds 
as well as Mr. Johnston. “We have a long step to 
go, and the sooner we start the better.” 

“It always comes to this,” observed Mr. Johnston ; 
“ as someone has correctly observed, ‘ we me©t4« part, 
like ships on the great sea,’ a fine idea. Good-day, 
then, pretty brown eyes — may you sell your roots and 


26 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


herbs to advantage, and keep a sunny place in thy 
memory, dearest, for yours, to command, T. Johnston. 

“ Now, gentlemen, right about face,” and they ran 
back as they had come, only this time hand in hand, to 
the admiration of all beholders. 

The policeman looked after them and then relaxed 
into a smile. . 

“Their tea was made too strong this morning, he 
observed, emphatically. 

“ They meant no harm,” returned Aileen, who from 
her association with Messrs. Jack, Peter, and Dick, 
perfectly understood dark sayings as applied to ' com- 
mon matters. 

“ I thought I might as well wait to see.” 

“I saw you did,” said Aileen, Avho knew him; 
“ thank you,” and she emphasized her gratitude with 
that most useful and in certain circles, familiar form of 
currency, twopence. 

The gii’l and boy walked on in jierfect silence till 
Southwark Bridge Road was crossed. Parole stepping 
out as though he had pledged his word to put his very 
best foot foremost. 

From time to time Jack glanced at his companion’s 
face, but there was nothing to be gathered from its 
expression. He had never before seen her in a pre- 
cisely similar mood, and unable to reconcile the 
amount of goods she had procured with such unusual 
preoccupation, he bethought him of a cause which 
might account for what he mentally called her dumps. 

“ Did those toffs vex you, Ally ? ” he asked. 

She raised her head and looked at him in surprise. 
“No,” she replied; “what made you think such a 
thing? ” 

“You are so deedy, and they were such queer 
chaps.” 

“They won’t be so queer to-morrow, most likely. 
Yesterday isn’t long gone, and they are not quite sober 
yet, and still full of their fun.” 

“ Is that all ? ” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIBM. 


27 


That is all. They were in Mr. Plashet’s when I 
got there, and began chaffing, and then nothing would 
serve them but to play at being porters.” 

“ I see,” said Jack, who did not see in the least, and 
did not believe either, having the usual suspiciousness 
of his sex when his own female belongings were in 
question. 

“ And they did not vex you ? ” with lingering incre- 
dulity. 

“ They did not ; but I was vexed at having to go to 
Mr. Placet.” 

“ Why ? He always serves you well.” 

“ He does, but I had to ask him for credit.” 

“How was that ? Would Mrs. Jeckles not lend you 
enough ? ” 

“ Mrs. Jeckles was not in the market, she is ill.” 

Jack whistled. “ It is lucky you got credit anyhow,” 
he remarked. 

“ It is, but I’ll have to take good care of all the money 
we can scrape together to pay Mr. Plashet and have 
something for next market-day. As I told you, coming 
down, I must go into the city and may not get back 
home before you’ve finished your first round. Promise 
me you’ll give nobody even sixpence, no matter what it 
is wanted for.” 

“Nobody’ll get a farden out of me,” said Jack, 
valiantly. “I suppose you mean I’m not to let mother 
have anything?” 

“ I mean that you are to keep whatever you take till 
I get home. It’s not yours to give, and it is not mine 
either for that matter. It is Mr. Plashet’s, so do what 
I tell you, like a dear lad.” 

“All right,” he answered. “I say. Ally, lend me 
your bag to put the takings in.” 

She handed him a little chamois bag, such as small 
tradesmen who go often to the bank are in the habit of 
carrying. It contained but a few pence, out of which 
she kept three for travelling expenses. 

“Is that all there is left? ” queried the boy. 


28 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ That is all,” she answered, and they walked on in 
silence, both sometimes in the horse-way, Aileen occa- 
sionally on the curb, but always close together and 
stepping out briskly to keep pace with Parole, who 
after two days’ rest, was fresh as a daisy, and indeed 
had, for very playfulness, kicked and shown his teeth 
when Mr. Johnston essayed to show how well he under- 
stood donkey weaknesses by pulling his ears. 

They did not. talk much after this. The traffic of 
the day had begun, and it is not easy to carry on a 
conversation when guiding a donkey-cart between vans 
and omnibuses, cabs and drags and private traps. 
Thus it happened that save for an occasional remark 
they traversed in silence Southwark, Holland and 
Stamford Streets, York Koad, crossed Westminster 
Bridge Koad, passed the south side of St. Thomas’s 
Hospital, skirted the gardens of Lambeth Palace, and 
finally reached that point where in olden times the 
horse-ferry boats touched the Surrey side. 

Then, just opposite the ancient gateway and St. 
Mary’s Church, Aileen stepped and said, “ I’ll take the 
boat from here. Jack. You won’t forget what I told 
you?” 

“ No fear,” returned the boy. 

“ And you may just as well ride home. Your weight 
won’t make any difference.” 

“ No, he’ll never feel it,” which was perhaps more 
than Parole would have said ; nevertheless, the ar- 
rangement was satisfactorily carried out, and as Aileen 
turned, before going down the steps, she saw Jack 
snugly ensconced among the baskets, and the donkey 
start gallantly off at a round trot for Battersea. 


CHAPTER m. 


DESBOKNE AND SON. 

A steamer was leaving Vauxliall Pier as Aileen put 
her penny through the pigeon-hole at Lambeth pay- 
office and received in return a ticket available at any 
of the six landing stages which end with that of the 
Old Swan. 

It is cheap travelling and pleasant when the boats 
are not overcrowded. Of a winter’s morning, with 
only two or three passengers on board and freedom to 
stand close by the funnel, it is as nice a way of getting 
into the city as any one need desire. How well Lon- 
don looks from the river. With what an easy, gliding 
movement the Archbishop’s Palace is left behind and 
the great hospital and the Houses of Parliament passed, 
then under Westminster Bridge, and on beside the 
Victoria Embankment, till Somerset House is reached, 
and the dome of St. Paul’s looms larger and nearer 
every second. A wonderful run for a penny with a 
fresh wind blowing off the Thames and picturesque 
barges going up with the tide, and the great ware- 
houses below Blackfriars taking in or sending off car- 
goes of goods, with lighters lying at anchor all along 
Bankside, where the garden of Winchester House used 
to slope to the river, and the sun shining on scores of 
city churches and gilding their fanes anew ! 

Seated in one of the centre benches in the fore part 
of the steamboat, whither she had modestly taken up 
her quarters, careful not to intrude her humble per- 
sonality upon people better dressed and apparently 
more prosperous, Aileen Fermoy looked at the spires 


30 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


and wondered, as well she might, how many a person 
could count between Blackfriars and Old Swan 

She knew nothing of the city history, or else what a 
tale she might have recited to herself as the boat swept 
down the river till at last it slackened speed, and 
stopped hard by the spot where Osborne took that ad- 
venturous leap for love which, in our degenerate times, 
one or two others have repeated for money. 

Familiar as the Borough Market was to her, she had 
never even heard the true history (probably false) of 
the life and sudden death of old John Overs, the rich 
ferryman of London, showing how he lost his life by 
his own covetousness. And of his daughter Mary who 
caused the church of St. Mary Overie, Southwark, to 
be built, and of the building of London Bridge. 

Nor in her stock of old ballads had the nurse’s song : 

“ London Bridge is broken down, 

Dance over my Lady Lea, 

London Bridge is broken down, 

With a gay lady”— 

dear to the hearts of children who joined in the chorus 
with their young voices and kept time to its music with 
their merry restless feet centuries ago — a place. 

She did not know there had ever been houses on the 
bridge, or so-called traitors’ heads set on high there. 
On that landing at the Old Swan, close to where she 
herself stepped from the steamboat, Eleanor, Duchess 
of Gloucester, began one of her public penances for 
the sin of witchcraft. Over and over again she had 
stood under the shadow of St. Mary Overie and yet 
never entered the Lady’s Chapel. There had been no 
one to tell her of the Tabard Inn, and show her in 
fancy the Canterbury Pilgrims who lodged there and 
will haunt the place forever, though no stone of the 
building remains to reward curious sight - seekers, 
and modern London like a mighty ocean sweeps over 
those ancient landmarks, the memory of which it, 
nevertheless, fails to obliterate. No— though the girl’s 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


31 


was a nature to have been fascinated by the story of 
olden times — all the traditions of the past were as a 
sealed book to her. She was too young to remember 
even that now comparatively old London middle-aged 
people love with a tender sadness to recall. 

Born before any of the great works completed dur- 
ing the last twenty-five years were begun, she had, 
nevertlieless, no memory of a time when Broad Street 
Station, the Metropolitan Kailway, the Thames Em- 
bankment, Queen Victoria Street, giant hotels, board 
schools, civil - service stores were not — of a time, in 
fact, as one of the present generation might naturally 
suggest, when nothing was. 

How did people get on a quarter of a century ago 
without all the modern improvements they are at 
present blessed with ? 

Well, much as they get on now. They ate, they 
drank, they married and were given in marriage, they 
struggled through life’s little day more or less success- 
fully ; they suffered, they grew aged, they laughed, 
they wept, they cheated, thej^ were cheated, they did 
brave deeds, they were guilty of villainy, they fell sick 
and recovered, or they fell sick and died and passed 
into the silent land precisely as folks do to this hour. 

The centuries come and the centuries go while the 
main facts of existence change not at all. The fash- 
ions of this world may vary, but the human nature 
which sets or follows those fashions doesn’t alter as 
many worthy individuals imagine. 

Aileen was a Londoner bred and born, and not one 
of the things in the city she walked through looked 
strange to her, yet she felt lonely, because the streets 
she passed were not those habit had made familiar. 

It was another phase of metropolitan life from any 
she was well acquainted with which presented itself. 
In Battersea, for example, she knew many persons both 
by sight and to speak to, and even in the thoroughfares 
leading to the Borough Market she often met chance 
acquaintances who exchanged greetings with her. 


32 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 

When she got into Swan Lane all this was chang'ed, 
and though not shy she began to feel timid about her 
visit to Messrs. Desborne’s office. 

The day had not begun well for her. There are 
days in which everything seems to go wrong, and for 
Aileen so far that promised to be one of them. 

She had risen with a headache consequent upon 
having been obliged to sit up late the night befoi;e. 
Mrs. Jeckles’ illness troubled her, for the poor old 
lady had often proved a friend in need — the experience 
with Mr. Plashet’s merry gentlemen could not be re^ 
garded by a quiet modest girl as exactly agreeable, 
and worse than all she didn’t see her way about mat- 
ters at home. 

While it lasted the quick run down the river— the 
keen air — the bright sunshine — the succession of 
changing objects — the very landing of some passen- 
gers ^nd taking on of others had roused and done her 
good, but once more on terra firma the former dejec- 
tion resumed its sway. 

Out of spirits herself, the “ day-after-the-fair ” look 
of those she met struck her as very depressing also. 
On some mornings— -and for that matter on some 
evenings, too — only the men and w’^omen, who know 
nothing they are wanted to know are abroad. 

On that morning no one had even so much as heard 
of Cloak Lane, but many were quite certain it was 
Cross Lane, or Finch Lane, or Petticoat Lane, or 
Cloth Fair Aileen was searching for. 

The persons she asked belonged to that curious type 
who, if an inquirer wishes to be put in the right way 
for Pudding Lane, at once assumes Pie Corner must 
be meant, and it was more by accident than owung to 
any wit or wisdom on the part of those who vouch- 
safed information that she did not find herself in 
Hounsditch, or threading the mazes of Bartholomew 
Close, Little Britain, and Long Lane ; but was only 
merrily tossed like a shuttlecock from Cannon and 
Thames Street, from Thames Street to Fenchurch 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


33 


Street, and thence back to Cannon Street, where the 
scent of course lay w’arm. Still she was not aware of 
that, and for some time pursued her inquiries without 
getting much nearer her object. 

She asked a shopboy, who did not think there was 
such a place. She asked a cabman, who replied he 
didn’t know much about the city. She asked a poorly- 
dressed woman, who said, “I am certain I can’t tell 
you.” She asked a mechanic, and he answered, “I 
am a stranger myself.” Then she stopped a work- 
girl, who made the consolatory observation, “I am 
sure it is not in the city. You had better try the 
other side of the water.” She could not see a police- 
man, and though she ran after a letter-carrier she only 
reached that functionary in time to see him ascending 
a steep flight of stairs, up which she did not like to 
follow. 

She was wandering in the direction of Cheapside, 
and would possibly .have taken a turn round the Man- 
sion House, the Koyal Exchange, and the Bank of 
England had she not happened to espy a telegraph 
messenger. 

you please,” she cried, “ will you tell me where 
to find Cloak Lane,” as if Cloak Lane had been care- 
lessly mislaid somewhere. 

Why you are coming away from it. Cross Cannon 
Street ; first turn to the left, as you go to Southwark 
Bridge. You can’t miss it,” and the lad, who had 
paused in his haste to answer, ran off leaving Aileen to 
think what a civil, well-spoken little chap he was, to 
wonder how boys fell into such berths, and to wish her 
brother — so-called — had a chance of getting into any 
employment of the sort. 

Following his directions in less than a minute she 
found the place she had been in search of, and which 
she must have passed close to over and over again. 

Walking slowly down one side of the lane and 
then crossing to the other and repeating her perform- 
ance she still failed to see the name she was in search 


34 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


of, and had to seek information from a porter who W’as 
in charge of a truck opposite one of the houses. 

For answer he pointed to a door close at hand, and 
said “ Go in there.” 

Aileen did as she was directed, and when she en- 
tered was rewarded by seeing “Clerk’s Office ’’painted 
so that they who run might read. 

Taking her courage in her hand she knocked on the 
panel. There was no answer, so she knocked again 
louder. 

“Come in,” called out a sharp voice, and Aileen 
turning the handle, crossed the threshold. 

Near the window a man sat at a high desk writing j 
behind a short counter. Doing nothing stood a young 
fellow, who looked at the girl, as she walked forward 
with the expression of a person who felt convinced she 
had strayed in by mistake. 

A pen was stuck jauntily behind his right ear, and 
he arrested attention, not merely by reason of the 
plainness of his face, but also because of the perfect | 
self-satisfaction which clothed him as with a garment. 

Aileen had seen that morning some hundreds of 
smart, good-looking, well set-up young clerks, but not 
one of them attracted or remained in her memory, as 
did this ugly piece of lively impudence, who, putting 
the palms of both hands flat on the counter, bent 
over it with a sort of “What for you, Miss” expression 
beaming in his face, which was eminently disconcert- 
ing. 

“ Is Mr. Desborne in ? ” asked the girl, thus settling 
the question as to whether she had wandered there by 
chance in the negative. 

“ I regret to say he is not,” answered the clerk, who 
at once saw an opportunity which he did not mean to 
lose of having some fun. 

In truth, poor Aileen looked as little like a possible 
client to such a firm as can well be imagined. 

^ Her black straw bonnet, if not w^orn quite at the al- 
titude affected by peripatetic green-grocers of the 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


35 


better sex, was perched sufficiently high on her head 
to afford some protection from the sun. 

“It was cocked up like a haymaker’s,” explained 
Mr. Tripsdale, subsequently, “ and she had a great 
white linen apron over a clean print gown, and a 
jacket that had seen hard service on the top of that. 
*Pon my honor, I made sure she had come about some 
Old Bailey case — assault, or passing bad coins, or 
burglary. You might have knocked me over with 
a feather when I heard her errand.” 

But Aileen did not tell him her errand then, or ever. 
Knowledge came to Mr. Tripsdale otherwise. When 
she found Mr. Desborne was not in, she asked, “ Can 
I see his son, then ? ” 

“Well, the fact is,” answered Mr. Tripsdale, leaning 
more and more over the counter, and speaking in a 
private and confidential tone, “ that we have no son 
here. Mr. Edward Desborne was once the son when 
he had a father, but he has no father now, and he 
would be the father if he had a son, which he has not. 
I trust I make my meaning clear ? ” 

“ You mean, I suppose, there is no one I can speak 
to about the matter that brought me into the city ? ” 
said Aileen. 

“ Unless I can be of service,” suggested Mr. Trips- 
dale, with a smile which added quite a weird attraction 
to his face. 

“What is the best time to see Mr. Desborne?” asked 
the girl, passing by this generous offer as unworthy of 
notice. 

In answer, Mr. Tripsdale looked at the clock which 
ticked above the chimney-piece, then he took out a sil- 
ver watch and consulted it, before he said : 

“ Eeally, as a rule, I do not think you could better 
this hour. Mr. Desborne generally reaches the office 
at an early period of the day, but these holiday times 
make us all a little unpunctual. If you were to tell 
me the nature of your business I might be able to save 
you a journey.” 


36 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


Thank you ; but I want to see Mr. Desborne.” 

“ But I assure you Mr. Desborne is not always to bo 
seen. He is often engaged in writing, for instance, or 
has clients with him, and could not perhaps make leis- 
ure to see you when you called, happy though be 
would be to do so, I have no doubt, if it were possible. 
Eeally, you had better indicate the matter which is en- 
gaging your attention, or at least leave your name and 
address.” 

“ If Mr. Desborne was in he would see me, I think,” 
said Aileen, not wdthout dignity, though there were 
tears in her eyes and her cheeks were unusually red. 
“ I am often near here, so I 'will take my chance and 
call some other day. Good-morning,” and she was 
turning to go when the man who had been writing got 
down from his stool, caught Mr. Tripsdale by the arm, 
and muttering “ Don’t be an ass,” jerked him from the 
counter. 

“ Mr. Desborne is rather uncertain,” he went on, ad- 
dressing the girl, “ and you might call here many 
times and not find him unless you had an appoint- 
ment. Is there nothing I can attend to for you? 
Perhaps I could advise you to whom to apply if you 
are in any difficulty.” 

“ You are very kind — but I am not in any difficulty, 
thank you. It is Mr. Desborne I want to see, and I 
must just call till I see him. Good-day, sir,” and this 
time she really left the office, when Mr. Tripsdale 
walked across the floor on tiptoe, the better to indicate 
unbounded astonishment, "svliich proceeding drew from 
the elder clerk an expression of belief that he was a 
confounded fool. 

“ Did you ever, ever,” hummed Mr. Tripsdale, “did 
you ever, ever, did you ever sees a wffia-ha-a-al, did you 
ever, ever ” 

“Stop that row, can’t you,” interilipted the other. 
“I have seen you and that’s enough,” which was a sin- 
gularly inappropriate retort, since Mr. Tripsdale was in 
every respect unlike a whale of any known species. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


37 


Meanwhile Aileen, after pausing on the step, pro- 
ceeded in the direction of Ludgate Hill. At that mo- 
ment a gentleman walking on the opposite side of the 
road, left the curb and crossed the lane, the pleasant- 
est-looking gentleman, Aileen thought, she had ever 
seen ; so pleasant-looking, in fact, that she turned her 
head and stared after him, a fault of which no Lady 
Clara Vere de Vere would, of course, have been guilty 
— a fault, indeed, into which this poor girl was not in 
the habit of falling ; but now, when she did fall into 
it, she saw that on the threshold she had just left the 
gentleman was standing looking after her with an 
amused and genial sort of curiosity. 

Instantly it flashed through Aileen’s mind that this 
pleasant gentleman was the one she sought, and with- 
out stopping to think she turned back, and asked, on 
the spur of the moment : 

“ Oh, sir, are you Mr. Desborne ? ” 

“ My name is Desborne,” he said. Can I do any- 
thing for you ? ” 

“I did want to see you, sir — about this,” and she 
gave him the newspaper cutting, at which he glanced 
in evident surprise. 

“And what have you to do with this?” he in- 
quired. 

“ Timothy Fermoy was my father, sir.” 

“ Was ? Is he dead, then ? ” 

“ Yes, sir — he died four years ago the 10th of last 
March.” 

“ You had better come in,” said Mr. Desborne, and 
he held first the outer door, then the door of the 
clerks’ office, and finally the door leading into his own 
private room open for her to pass through. 

“ Here’s a go,” remarked Mr. Tripsdale the moment 
principal and client had disappeared. 

“I hope this will be a warning to you,” said his 
senior, %ith a severity which was assumed to conceal 
his own astonishment. 


CHAPTEE IV. 


IN CLOAK LANE. 

Probably there was not in the city of London a 
pleasanter man to talk to than Mr. Edward Desborne. 

He was not merely pleasant to talk to, but pleasant 
in every relation of life. He overflowed with kindness. 
He never felt so happy as when conferring a favor, 
or subscribing to a charity, or helping some widow in 
her need, or assisting a hard-worked father to keep his 
legs or get on them again. 

Many men obtain a character for goodness on insuf- 
ficient grounds, but Edward Desborne deserved every 
word of praise which was spoken concerning him, and 
many that were never uttered. 

For his kindness was as warm as the sun, as gracious 
as summer rain, and his manners were of that delight- 
ful sort which make those who come under their in- 
fluence better and more charitable. 

There was in his nature no sham or pretence of any 
description. Where others said, “Poor fellow,” or 
“ how sad,” and immediately forgot the sadness and 
the poor fellow, Mr. Desborne’s first speech would be, 
“What can we do for him?” thus crediting friends 
and neighbors with his own generous desires, and so 
wrapping the whole human family in his own philan- 
thropic mantle. 

He had been popular all his life — at school, at col- 
lege, in the office where he served his time, and now, 
when over forty, he was popular in the city, in Society, 
and at his club. 

The one place where, perhaps, he stood on a lower 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


39 


platform was his own home, but the cause chanced to 
be that he had married a lady of higher rank than his 
own, who didn’t love him quite so much as he lo”ed 
her. In fact she didn’t love him at all, for the suffi- 
cient reason that she couldn’t love anyone greatly ex- 
cept herself. 

Mr. Desborne, however, simply adored his wife. To 
him she seemed the truest lady, the noblest woman 
earth ever beheld. In his eyes she could do nothing 
but what was right ; her wishes always appeared reason- 
able ; the only sorrow he ever felt being that anything 
he could offer should prove so utterly unworthy her 
acceptance. 

His affection would have exhausted the mines of 
Golconda, and lavished all the gold King Solomon 
gathered together. He deemed himself quite unfit to 
possess such a treasure. It was a delight to him even 
to see her cross a room, to hear her foot fall on the 
stairs, to listen to her voice — ay, even to imagine her 
shadow touched him as she passed ! 

Never was a woman loved with a devotion so entire, 
so unselfish ; and the world looking kindly on, thought 
what a perfect creature she must be to inspire such 
worship. 

Edward Desborne, in addition to being a model hus- 
band, was very good to look at. Though forty, his 
blue eyes had still a bright, boyish expression, which 
proved infinitely charming. Tall, fair, light-haired, 
clean shaven, Aileen Fermoy made no mistake when 
she decided he was the very pleasantest gentleman her 
eyes had ever beheld. He was pleasant to everyone — 
from a crossing sweeper to tlie best client his firm 
could boast. To all women he was chivalrous, and 
though, in Aileen’s case, it might be supposed his 
politeness proceeded from interested motives, it is but 
fair to say he would have been equally courteous to the 
humblest housewife who on Saturday night spent her 
husband’s hardly earned wages to the best advantage 
in High Street, Hoxton. 


40 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


After they had entered his private office he placed a 
chair for Timothy Fermoy’s daughter with as much re- 
spect as though she had been the finest lady in the 
land, and when, after a moment’s hesitation, the girl sat 
down, he drew one forward for himself, saying, at the 
same time : 

“ Now, let me hear all about it." 

To Aileen’s comprehension it seemed that it was she 
who had come to hear “ all about ” whatever there was 
to tell, so she answered, in her own pretty modest 
way : 

“Indeed, sir, I know nothing." 

He smiled, and she could not help smiling in return. 
“Eeally a pretty girl,” he thought; “a nice, frank, 
pretty girl! What a pity — what a thousand pities," 
which mental remark had no connection with her 
looks, bad or good. 

“ How did you happen to see this advertisement ? ” 
he asked. 

“ A gentleman showed it to me yesterday, and said 
it ought to be attended to.” 

“ Quite so,” an observation which might have 
meant much or little. “ You will not mind answering 
a few questions ? ” 

“ Oh, no, sir.” 

Mr. Desbome stretched out his hand to touch the 
bell, but on second thoughts drew it back again ; and, 
taking a sheet of paper out of the case, lifted a pencil, 
looked at it, and then observed : 

“ And so you are the daughter of Timothy Fermoy ? ” 

“Yes, sir, my mother never had another child.” 

‘‘ Do you know where he was born ? ” 

“ He was born and bred in Clontarf, not far out of 
Dublin, but his father came from King’s County.” 

“ Oh ! what was his father ? ” 

“ Coachman, sir, to Admiral Cecil.” 

“ Yes ; just tell me anything that occurs to you about 
your parents, and I can ask you such questions as occur 
to me afterward.” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


41 


It was not difficult for Aileen to talk about herself 
and her belongings. In that rank of life egotism is 
even more natural than in a higher, and, therefore, 
after the first awkwardness of speaking freely to a 
stranger and that stranger a gentleman, she proceeded 
without hesitation to explain how her father when a 
lad went as a boy under the butler at Admiral Cecil’s 
establishment, and how when he knew his business 
thoroughly General Galvaine took him for his own 
butler. “ My mother was lady’s maid to Mrs. Gal- 
vaine,” the girl added, “ and so they became acquainted.” 

“ I understand.” 

“ When they had saved enough money they made 
up their minds to get married, and they started a green- 
grocer’s shop in Kensington, where they did well till 
my mother died.” 

Yes, and then? ” 

“ My father’s health broke, and he thought he would 
make a shift, so he sold his business and bought an- 
other in Kennington Park Koad.” 

‘‘That is rather odd,” said Mr. Desborne, looking 
thoughtfully down on the paper, which he tapped with 
his pencil — then as an idea struck him he asked, 
“ Did he trade in his own name ? ” 

“ No, sir, he took the shop off a man called Fidge- 
ley, and never changed the name above the door. It 
was more convenient. There were bill-heads and all.” 

“I see ; did he die there?” 

“ He died in Guy’s Hospital.” 

“Badly off?” 

“Not to say badly off, sir ; only the doctors thought 
he’d have better care there, and that he might get 
strong again. But his heart was broken. He never 
rightly held up his head after my mother’s death.” 

“ Ah ! very sad ; and where have you been living 
since ? ” 

“ With Mrs. Fermoy.” 

“ Who is she ? — what relation to you, I mean ? ” 

“ She’s my father’s widow, sir. Before he died he 


42 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


married her, for he thought it would be hard for me 
to be left alone in the world if anything happened to 
him, and indeed she is a good-natured woman.” 

“ You don’t call her mother ? ” 

“No, sir.” 

. “Do you not agree? ” 

“ We agree well enough,” answered Aileen, for the 
first time with a certain constraint, “ but I don’t hold 
with second marriages myself.” 

“ Clearly a young person possessed of decided opin- 
ions,” thought Mr. Desborne. 

“ What do you do for a living ? Are you tolerably 
comfortable ? ” 

“ We can’t complain, sir. There was plenty of furni- 
ture, and Mrs. Fermoy lets ofi’ enough to pay the rent 
and something more. Then the gentleman that showed 
me your advertisement lent me as much money as 
bought a round.” 

“ What is a round ? ” asked Mr. Desborne. 

“ You may have a round of anything, sir — fish, or 
firewood, or cat’s meat — or mending kettles and such 
like, or vegetables — mine is vegetables — and fruit,” she 
added as an afterthought, “ when it comes in.” - 

“ But how do you manage ? I don’t understand,” he 
said. 

“I go round, sir. In my father’s time of course we 
were in a better way — and he only called on his cus- 
tomers for orders and delivered the goods — but people 
like us go round to sell what we can, not to gentry, 
but to the workingmen’s waives and that sort.” 

“ It must be a very hard life.” 

“Not so hard as one might think. We have to be 
out in all weathers, of course, but we don’t get wet 
through very often. The worst of it is going to mar- 
ket so early in the winter mornings ; but, indeed, sir, 
I m very thankful to be able to earn as much as I do. 
Besides, Jack is a good lad ” — with an evident desire 
to do full justice to that young gentleman’s abilities — 
“ he can halloo so loud.” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


43 


“ But why does he halloo ? ” asked Mr. Desborne, 
mystified, though interested. 

“ To let people know we are in the street, sir — and 
what we have in the cart with us.” 

“ Oh ! I comprehend,” said Mr. Desborne, to whom 
there recurred the memory of ear-splitting yells which 
he had heard when passing through a certain lane in 
the neighborhood of Holborn. “Is it necessary to 
shout so loudly ? ” 

“Yes, sir; we should do no trade if somebody did 
not halloo. When I began I had to hire a lad, but he 
was not worth half as much as Jack. Shouting that 
way spoils a boy’s voice, though, completely — makes it 
hoarse and rough.” 

“ Spoils it for singing, I suppose you mean.” 

“ Yes, or for talking. Perhaps, sir, you have never 
spoken to a coster ; but if you had, you could not 
help noticing the sort of voice most of them have. 
You would think they had a bad cold. That comes 
from crying out what they have to sell.” 

“ Does it, indeed ? Poor fellows.” 

“I am often sorry for them myself,” said Aileen, 
touched by a sympathetic tone in Mr. Desborne’s 
voice ; “ many of them are such industrious, civil 
chaps.” 

“ I have no doubt of it ; but Jack isn’t a costermon- 
ger, is he ? ” 

“No, sir ; he is Mrs. Fermoy’s son.” 

“ And consequently your brother.” 

“ In a sort of a way, sir.” 

Mr. Desborne glanced back over the few notes he 
had made, which had seemed to Aileen written by 
magic till he came to this : “ The only child my 
mother ever had.” Then he turned to Aileen, and said : 

“ Your father having married a second time, your 
stepmother’s sons must be your half-brothers.” 

“No, sir,” very decidedly. 

“ Then tell me the relation in which you think they 
stand to you.” 


44 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


The girl raised a pair of honest eyes to his, and 
answered : 

Of course I can’t tell, sir, exactly, but I think they 
are none of them any relation at all. Mrs. Calloran 
was a widow woman when my father married her, and 
her four sons are all Calloran s, not Fermoys.” 

“ Then in fact there is no Fermoy but yourself ? ” 

“And Mrs. Fermoy, sir, as I told you.” 

“ Is she an Irishwoman ? ” 

“ No, sir — English — but her first husband was Lon- 
don Irish, like myself.” 

“ What is a London Irish person ? ” 

“A boy or girl born in London of Irish parents.” 

“ A very clear definition,” said Mr. Desborne with 
his pleasant smile, and then he glanced over his notes 
once again. 

“ It is a long way from Dublin to Kensington,” he 
said. “How did it happen that your parents took 
such a leap ? ” 

“ General Galvaine came to London, and they came 
with him. They were married at St. Mary Abbot’s, 
Kensington.” 

“You have not told me your Christian name, I 
think.” 

“ Aileen, sir — Aileen Anisia. I was called after Mrs. 
Galvaine — she stood godmother to me.” 

“When your father left Ireland had he any relatives 
living there ? ” 

“ No, sir, not that I ever heard of. He had nobody 
belonging to him, so far as I know, any place, except an 
uncle that went out to America.” 

“ Was he a Fermoy also ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, Shawn Fermoy ; if he is living, he must be 
an old man now.” 

There ensued a pause, during which Mr. Desborne 
once again looked at his notes. 

“ Thank you,” he said at last. “ I do not think I need 
trouble you further at present, but I should like you to 
give me your address in case I want to write to you,” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


45 


live at 7 Field Prospect Road, Battersea,” an- 
swered the girl ; “ but please don’t write to me there.” 

“No?” 

“ They would all at home want to know who the 
letter was from — and I’d rather not, sir. If you would 
have the kindness to send a line for me — an envelope 
directed to IVIr. Vernham, care of Messrs. Brice & Co., 
Minories, I’d get it quite safe.” 

“ Is Mr. Vernham a relative of yours ? ” 

“ Of mine ! Oh, no, sir — he’s a gentleman.” 

The statement seemed to Mi*. Desborne odd, but he 
asked no question and made no comment, only took 
down the address, and said : 

“ Very well,” in a tone Aileen concluded meant that 
she might go. 

She rose to depart, but stood irresolute, evidently 
having something on her mind of which she wished to 
disburden it. 

“I hope, sir,” she began, “you won’t think I am 
taking too much of a liberty — but why did you want 
to see my father? ” 

Mr. Desborne looked at her as she spoke as if he too 
had forgotten something he ought to have remembered. 

“When you read our advertisement what did you 
think it meant?” he asked, answering her question 
with another. 

“ I could not think, sir. Mr. Philip — Mi*. Vernham 
I should say — asked me if there was anybody who 
would be likely to leave my father money, and I could 
not call to mind anyone unless General Galvaine. 
Then Mr. Philip told me the general was alive, and 
that perhaps father was wanted as a witness or some- 
thing of that sort, and I thought if you didn’t mind I 
should like to know. You’ll excuse me, sir ? ” 

“ There is nothing to excuse. It is most natural 
you should wish to know, but at present I am not able 
to tell you very much. The matter is more in my 
uncle’s hands than mine. I may say, however, that it 
relates to money.” 


46 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ To money, sir ? ” 

“ Yes, you must not go home fancying yourself an 
heiress*** 

“ I am not likely to do that, sir,” said Aileen, in the 
tone of a person who felt there was something sadly 
grotesque in the suggestion. 

“ Still it seems to me probable something will be 
coming to you, and, therefore, if a small sum would be 
of any use at present we should be happy to advance 
it.” 

“Thank you, sir, but I am not in need.” 

“ I think you had better have a few pounds. You 
may wish to buy something ; all young girls” — he had 
bee"n about to say ladies, but had substituted the 
better word — “ love to buy a new dress, do they not ? ” 

“Many of them do, Wry likely,” she answered, 
flushing to her temples ; “but I have had other things 
to consider.” 

“ Well, consider a new dress now. Suppose I write 
a check for twenty pounds?” 

“Indeed, sir, I am obliged, but I have enough 
gowns — and I would have come in a better” — here the 
flush grew deeper — “only I had to go to market, 
and ” 

“I hope,” interrupted Mr. Desborne, “you do not 
imagine I think the dress you wear other than most 
proper and suitable. Why I mentioned such a thing 
was because I often hear fashions in dresses talked 
about. Is not there any purchase you would care to 
make ? ” 

“ You are too kind, sir — but I do not want to buy 
anything unless ” 

“ You need not tell me if you feel I am unworthy of 
confidence,” he rejoined, lightly. 

“It is not that, sir — and I would be quite wrong to 
take what you offer — because, sir, if there should be no 
money coming to me how would I ever pay you back ? ” 

“I would take my chance of that.” 

“ But I couldn’t^ sir. If not asking too much, though, 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


47 


£5 would be a great help to me. I had saved up 
against the preserving time, for we get some good 
orders then from richer people than we serve in our 
regular round — but the money was taken.” 

How do you mean taken — stolen ? ” 

“ It was not thought stealing exactly, but I’ll never 
get it back again all the same.” 

“ And are you sure £5 will be sufficient ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, it will do ; I’ll take that if you are ^o good 
as to trust me, but no more.” 

Mr. Desborne laid down five sovereigns and watched 
the girl with a curious interest as she took out her 
handkerchief, knotted the money into one corner, laid 
the corner in her palm, drew a fold of the handkerchief 
between her first and second fingers, and wrapped the 
other portion round and round her hand. 

As she finished this performance she chanced to look 
up, and seeing Mr. Desborne’s amused expression a 
smile leaped into her eyes, and spread ovej.- her face 
like a sudden burst of sunshine. 

He laughed and said, “ I never saw that done before. 
Will it be safe ? ” 

“ Quite, sir — it’s the safest way of caiTying money, 
unless in your mouth — and I never like to put it there, 
because I don’t know who may have been handling it.” 

“ Do- people ever keep money in their mouths ? ” 

“ Oh ! yes, sir, lots of the poorer sort who have holes 
in their pockets and no purses — and often no handker- 
chief either.” 

Mr. Desborne did not answer, for the excellent 
reason that he was unable to think of anything to 
say. 

The incongruity between this girl’s present associates 
and her future prospects ; between this struggling to- 
day and possibly brilliant to-morrow ; between that 
bandaged hand and the fortune its fellow hand might 
hold, struck him all at once as something so pathetic 
and so out of all proportion, he could only open a door 
leading into the hall and walk with her in silence to the 


48 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


step outside, standing on which he had first noticed 
her. 

The poor as the rich know them, and the poor as the 
poor know them, are so very different that when the 
curtain is lifted sufficiently even to afford a peep at 
the reality of their existence, it gives a greater shock 
to well-to-do folks than they care to experience. 

Mr. Desborne’s kindly face wore a much graver ex- 
pression than usual when he re-entered his office, where 
he at once proceeded to write a note which he directed 
to Philip Vernham, Esq., asking that gentleman to 
favor him with a few minutes’ conversation at his early 
convenience. 


CHAPTER V. 


THE JUNIOR PARTNER. 

If Mr. Desborne ever wondered, as indeed he did 
more than once after their interview, whether Timothy 
Fermoy’s daughter were quite straightforward ; if it 
had occurred to him — still in a speculative sort of way 
it was probably quite as well she declined, for reasons 
best known to herself, that twenty pounds offered in 
the pure kindness of his heart — the moment he saw 
Aileen’s friend. Mi*. Philip, all doubts vanished as com- 
pletely as mists melt away before the sun. 

There could be no conspiracy between them — he was 
evidently as straightforward as she — and all the sure 
faith Aileen had inspired, but which eight-and-forty 
hours managed to put a little to the rout, returned with 
conviction. 

Yes,” Mr. Vernham explained, ** he had known 
Aileen Fermoy since she was quite a child. His father 
baptized her, Mrs. Galvaine stood godmother. These 
facts were writ plainly in the parish register of St. 
Mary Abbot’s twenty-two years previously. He re- 
membered Fermoy’s shop in Kensington. Been in it 
often when a small- lad, and also in later life. His 
parents dealt there. Fermoy was a pleasant, well- 
mannered, industrious, ready fellow, who had received 
some education. Mrs. Fermoy was — but I cannot 
speak about her, Mr. Desborne, as I ought,” the young 
man broke off to say. “ She was an unselfish, devoted, 
unworldly creature, who tended my mother for six 
years with a love and a kindness simply unimaginable. 
She was to her nurse, friend, servant, sister, daughter 


50 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


all in one — I could never tell you the extent of her 
affection, generosity, and delicate consideration. If we 
had been rich as we were poor, great as we were of 
small account, we could never have been treated by her 
as we were. It is no marvel I should do such little as 
lies in my power for Aileen Fermoy. If I were able to 
give her thousands, no money could repay the debt of 
gratitude I owe to her parents.” 

“Eeally, now, this is very novel,” commented Mr. 
Desborne, turning his chair a little so as more directly 
to face his visitor, who spoke with an enthusiasm all 
the more convincing because it was absolutely destitute 
of excitement. 

His voice held a tone as though tears drawn from 
some deep fount of early sorrow were not very far dis- 
tant, but his manner was quiet and full of the goodly 
habit of self-restraint. 

Certainly, thought the lawyer, they are a curious 
pair, a very curious pair, that interested him mightily, 
Imt also were a puzzle. He could not grasp the situa- 
tion, and he scarcely saw his way to ask any questions 
to render such an extraordinary alliance intelligible. 

Mr. Vernham saw somethiug of this embarrassment 
in Mr. Desborne’s face and hastened to relieve it. 

“ I suppose there is a legacy behind your advertise- 
ment,” he went on, “and that you have sent for me to 
tell you all I know about Timothy Fermoy and his 
daughter. I may say in a word then — I know nothing 
but what is good of the Fermoys.” 

“ I am convinced of that — but you see — well to be 
plain, if everything comes out right there will be money 
— for this girl — and from the terms in which she re- 
ferred to you I thought I might obtain some further 
information without raising undue hopes in the mind 
of the person most interested.” 

“Aileen is very practical,” commented Mr. Vernham. 

“No doubt ; but still she is young, and it would be 
cruel to excite her expectations only to disappoint them. 
It w^as for this reason I took the liberty of asking you 


THE HEAD OF THE FIUM. 


51 


to call, whicli I trust has not been an inconvenience. I 
had no idea you were so near Miss Aileen’s own age. 
I imagined you might take a fatherly interest in her 
welfare.” 

The young man looked at Mr. Desborne for a second 
with an expression in his eyes as though he were not 
quite pleased, but there was no cause for offence 
in the lawyer’s face, and Aileen’s singular friend 
answ^ered frankly : 

“I take as keen an interest in her welfare as if she 
were my sister ; keener, I think, because in that case 
the ties of blood would modify much that I feel toward 
this girl. I am aware it is nothing concerning me you 
want to hear, but yet I can scarcely make you compre- 
hend the position in which I stand to Aileen Fermoy 
unless I speak of myself.” 

“Indeed, Mr. Vernham, I should be delighted to 
hear anything you may have to tell, always supposing 
the past is not unpleasant to recall.” 

“ You mean if there be no painful story in my life,” 
said the young man, with a smile. “ I am happy to 
assure you my past has not a skeleton hidden anywhere 
— our record is clean enough, I think. There has been 
no worse stain than poverty — caused by others — no 
more bitter grief than death.” 

“What can be more bitter?” 

“ Disgrace,” was the reply. “ I hear of troubles 
every day which I wonder men can bear and live.” 

“ Many men do not seem to have much difficulty in 
bearing troubles which leave health and pocket un- 
touched,” said Mr. Desborne, dryly. 

“That is precisely what amazes me.” 

“ I gather that your father is or was a clergyman, 
Mr. Vernham ? ” 

« Was — he died nearly fifteen years ago.” 

“ Then surely he must have known himself and in- 
formed you that the heart of man is deceitful above all 
things.” 

“And desperately wicked,” finished Mr. Philip. 


52 


TEE BEAD OF THE FIRM, 


“ Yes, I suppose he did know the fact in the same 
abstract way that we all do. Probably he thought 
there were wicked people at Mile End, or in the New 
Cut, or even a few streets distant from his own house, 
but I greatly doubt if he ever realized his next door 
neighbor could be deceitful till he learned the fact 
from experience.” 

“ Ay, how was that ? ” 

“ Of course I do not mean exactly his next door 
neighbor — but a great house, the principal in which 
he and his family had known and trusted for years — 
all his money, and he was fairly rich, was in the 
custody of that house which people considered as safe 
as the Bank of England till it collapsed.” 

“ And he lost ” 

“Everything. I ought to tell you that after he had 
been at St. Mary Abbot’s for five or six years he was 
appointed to a very good living in Bedfordshire, which 
he had held only for about twenty months before 
Valleroy’s crash.” 

“ Only fancy his being beggared through Valleroy’s,” 
commented Mr. Desborne. “But I beg your pardon 
— you were saying ” 

“ That even after they suspended payment the pub- 
lic supposed a good deal would be saved out of the 
wreck. I need not tell you how affairs turned out. To 
end the story, so far as our part in it is concerned, at 
length my father, worn out with anxiety, died, leav- 
ing us utterly destitute, save for a modest annuity 
secured to my mother by an insurance he had fortu- 
nately effected in the Scottish Widows’ Fund.” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed Mr. Desborne. 

“It was necessary to return to London, and as her 
income would only afford the most modest apartments, 
my mother wrote to Mrs. Fermoy, for whom she had 
always entertained a great respect and liking, asking 
if she knew anyone who had rooms to let at the re- 
quired price. A reply came at once saying that the 
Fermoy’s would be pleased to let their first floor, and 


TBB HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


53 


hoping she would not be offended. I do not think 
I need weary you further, Mr. Desborne. I am sure 
you understand now how it happens that I know so 
much of the Fermoys, and think so highly of them.” 

“ Thank you ; I believe I understand perfectly. The 
only thing I am not quite clear about is how Timothy 
Fermoy’s daughter happens to be in — in such an hum- 
ble position, since, as I comprehend, her father sold 
one business and bought another, and was at no time 
in indigent circumstances.” 

“ That is quite true. He was always, for his station, 
well to do. After my mother’s death I still continued 
to lodge in their house until Mrs. Fermoy was attacked 
with an illness which ended fatally, and, of course, I 
never lost sight of them. When Fermoy was in Guy’s 
I used to go and see him there as often as possible. 
Poor fellow, I am afraid he realized long before he 
went there that his second marriage was an utter mis- 
take. He thought to secure a home and a friend for 
Aileen, but ” 

‘Ms Mrs. Fermoy No. 2 so very objectionable?” 
asked Mr. Desborne. 

“There is nothing against her character, if that is 
what you mean,” answered the man. “ She means to 
be kind ; she is good-natured, and honest, .and sober, and 
all that ; but it is a miserable home for the girl to be. 
in, and the chief burden of supporting it lies on her. 
Mrs. Fermoy No. 2 had a right royal time after Fer- 
njoy’s death ; she sold the good-will, and the carts, and 
the horses, and the stock all well, for she is a pushing, 
rather clever woman — clever, I mean, over a bargain — 
and while the money lasted she never asked herself 
where more was to come from.” 

“ It did not last long, I suppose ? ” 

“It did not. Then Mrs. Fermoy, w^ho boasts she 
is^ ‘ not one to sit with her hands in her lap when there 
is any work to do,’ found the house where they reside 
at'pireseht with the little business attached, which her 
stepdaughter manages. There is no absolute want. 


54 


THE BEAD OF THE FIRM. 


I hope, but Mrs. Fermoy’s sons, the Callorans, are a 
sadly rough lot, and I have often wished Aileen could 
separate herself from them and take a situation as 
lady’s maid or something of that sort. She is not 
badly educated, and would make a useful companion 
— I mean in an humble sort of way, of course.” 

“ Of course,” echoed Mr. Desborne, in an enigmat- 
ical tone. 

“ But the poor girl has an idea the household could 
not be maintained if she left it, and I do not like press- 
ing her to take a course she feels wrong.” 

“ Quite impossible.” 

“ Should she be entitled to any legacy, however, her 
stepmother had better know nothing concerning it.” 

“ Miss Fermoy seems to entertain a precisely similar 
opinion.” 

“I am glad to hear that, because whether the 
amount proves small or large — five pounds or five 
hundred — it would melt like summer snow in Mrs. 
Fermoy’s hands.” 

“Yes,” said Mr. Desborne, thoughtfully — “ yes.” 

“ Is there any further information I can give you ? ” 
asked the young man, breaking the silence w^hich ensued. 

“ I think not, thank you. If there should be I may 
take the liberty of writing to you again. You are in 
Brice’s house ? ” 

“ Yes — clerk.” 

“And a letter will always find you if addressed 
there?” 

“ Or to my lodgings in Colebrook Row.” 

“Who lives in Colebrook Row, if I may inquire?” 
asked a cheery incisive voice at this juncture, and Mr. 
Vernham, turning quickly round at the question, saw a 
small man with gray hair and dark eyes, who, having 
entered by the door leading from the hall and come 
quietly across the room, had heard the words which 
dictated his question. 

“I do,” answered the young man, with a grave and 
distant inclination of his head. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


55 


“ And, may I ask, if you ever see Hope sitting there 
speculating on traditionary gudgeons ? ” 

“I have not been so fortunate,” replied Mr. Vern- 
ham, in the tone of a person humoring some crazy 
fancy. As a matter of fact, he concluded his ques- 
tioner was deficient, not to use a stronger word. 

“ Ah, you don’t read Lamb, I see ; perhaps, like 
many young fellows, you think him out of date.” 

“ I beg your pardon. I had forgotten. Hope, so 
far as I know, does not reside in Colebrook now, but 
if Elia were to return there I could take her to several 
places not a stone’s throw from Cloak Lane where she 
not only speculates upon gudgeons, but catches them 
too.” 

“ Ay, indeed, and where are her fisheries, if I may 
ask?” 

“ In every city, town, and village of Great Britain. 
There never were such fisheries before — not even in 
the time of the South Sea bubble.” 

“ And Hope is represented by ” 

“The modern promoter — who sits at ease in his 
office and angles through the post.” 

“ Humph ! Have you fallen a victim to the modern 
promoter ? ” 

“ I have nothing to lose,” was the reply. 

“ Mr. Vernham’s father was a sufferer through 
Valleroy’s failure,” explained Mr. Desborne. 

“I felt sure you were Mr. Vernham,” said the elder 
man. “ I am very glad to make your acquaintance. 
Many and many a pleasant hour have I spent in the 
company of a gentleman of your name.” 

“ Did you know my father ? ” questioned the young 
fellow, eagerly. 

“ I think not. To the best of my belief the gentle- 
man I refer to died before your father could have been 
born. My friend, my cherished companion, is Abner 
Vernham.” 

“ My great grandfather was Abner Vernham, but he 
has been dead nearly a hundred years.” 


56 


TEE BEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“Yes, but bis books are not dead. They are upon 
my shelves, perfect mines of information. And so you 
are his descendant ? How oddly things come round. 
And you have kindly called to- tell us al^ut the fair 
itinerant, or, more correctly, fair peripatetic ? ” 

“ Mr. Vernham does not understand your flowers of 
language, uncle,” said Mr. Desborne, noticing the sud- 
den cloud which swept over their visitor’s face. 

“I do not quite understand,” said the young man, 
with a cold constraint. “Though Aileen Fermoy’s 
shop is but a small one, the girl is in no sense an itin- 
erant.’' 

“ He does not know,” thought Mr. Desborne ; “ he 
has never seen her ‘ dressed in character.’ ” 

“ I expressed myself foolishly,” said the other Mr. 
Desborne, who, though older than his nephew, was 
junior in the firm. “ Fact is, I have never seen the 
young lady.” 

“Aileen does not pretend to be a young lady ; she 
has too much sense,” interrupted Aileen’s friend. 

“ The young woman then,” substituted Mr. Thomas 
Desborne. “ My nephew has had that privilege, how- 
ever, and I may venture to say he was greatly struck 
not merely with her good looks, but with her good 
sense.” 

“ Is she good-looking ? ” marvelled Mr. Vernham, as 
if propounding the question to himself. 

“In my opinion — not that that is worth much, of 
course— decidedly good-looking,” interrupted the head 
of the firm. 

“Well, perhaps so— possibly she is— but the idea 
never occurred to me that she had any pretensions to 
beauty.” 

“ You mistake ; I did not say she was beautiful. I 
said she is good-looking, and I may add I consider she 
is better than good-looking. I cannot recall ever be- 
fore seeing a face so honest, kind, and frank.” 

“ There I am quite with you,” said the j^oung man. 

“ What further charm could be added to a woman’s 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 57 

face than those my nephew has mentioned ? ” asked Mr. 
Thomas Desborne. 

“ I do not profess to be an expert,” was the reply, 
“ but I imagine a woman might be frank, kind, and 
honest and yet seem very plain indeed.” 

“ You regard expression as nothing, then ? ” 

“ I regard expression as a great deal. It is entirely 
her expression which makes Aileeu Fermoy pleasant to 
look upon as her mother was before her.” 

“ You knew her mother? ” 

“ Mr. Vernham has been explaining to me how he 
came to know the Fermoys so intimately. I am greatly 
indebted to him,” put in Mr. Edward Desborne, not 
soiTy to give the conversation this turn. 

“As I have mentioned, I am only too glad to be of 
the slightest service to Aileen Fermoy.” 

“ I feel so sure of that I do not apologize for having 
given you a vast amount of trouble,” answered Mr. 
Desborne, warmly. 

“Indeed you need not.” 

“ Putting Miss Fermoy aside for a moment, will you 
allow me to say how pleased I am to make the acquaint- 
ance of Mr. Abner Vernham’s great-grandson. What 
an antiquarian, to be sure. By the bye, he was at one 
time curate of St. Christopher’s, close at hand.” 

“Well, hardly close at hand now,” corrected the 
younger man. 

“ Its site, its site. I have an old engraving of the 
church upstairs. Dear me, only to think that we should 
meet over this business of Timothy Fermoy’s daughter.” 

“ There are Vernhams in Sussex — relations of yours, 
I suppose,” observed Mr. Edward Desborne, amicably, 
anxious to give his visitor “a leg up.” 

“ Of Vernham Castle ? No ; they are not related to 
me. Or, to put it better, I am not related to them. 
They are of French extraction, I believe.” 

“Came over with the Conqueror, of course,” said 
Mr. Abner Vernham’s admirer, “ as, I suppose, your 
people did too ? ” 


58 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


“ No, according to my great-grandfather, 'sve are 
Saxons. I believe our name to have been originally 
Wirem or Wirenam. Indeed, in some old deeds it is 
spelt indilferently Virenam and Verenam. I have a 
curious paper written by my ancestor which proves 
that he at least had some reason for supposing we were 
here long before the Conqueror landed.” 

“Ah! you beat us hollow there — we cannot trace a 
step further back than 1311,” said Mr. Thomas Des- 
borne. 

“ But surely that is a very respectable pedigree,” said 
the antiquarian’s great-grandson, with a polite smile, 
“ and one which is probably a vast deal clearer than 
ours,” he added, in a spirit of proud humility. 

“I cannot say much about the clearness,” confessed 
the other. “There is a Desborne mentioned at the 
time Edward the Second assigned the ‘ favor of the 
city’ to the Mayor and Aldermen — and then we hear 
little of the family till Kalph Desborne died of the 
plague in 1543, leaving large benefactions to the poor. 
Whether he was the direct ancestor of Fulbrick Des- 
borne, beheaded on Tower Hill, from whom we can 
claim a direct descent, is somewhat doubtful. But I 
weary you, Mr. Vernham. I forgot the present gene- 
ration lives too fast to take any interest in such old- 
world questions.” 

“ There is no question in which I take so much in- 
terest as that of genealogy,” answered the young man. 

“ Your own,” thought Mr. Edward Desborne, but he 
kept silence, while his uncle said, archly : 

“I foresee, Mr. Vernham, that I shall very often have 
to ask you to spare me a few minutes’ chat about Miss 
Fermoy’s affairs.” 

“As often as you please,” was the reply. “I pass 
close by here frequently, and, even if I did not, I should 
only have to ask for leave to absent myself, and, as a 
rule, it would be granted.” 

“You like Messrs. Brice ; you find them pleasant?” 
asked Mr. Edward Desborne. 


THE HEAD OP THE FIRM, 


69 


“They are very considerate,” after which prudent 
acquiescence Messrs. Brice’s clerk took his leave of 
uncle and nephew and passed out into Cloak Lane, as 
Aileen had done before him. 

“Nice young fellow that,” remarked Mr. Thomas 
Desborne when the office door closed behind Aileen’s 
Mr. Philip. 

Mr. Edward Desborne did not answer. He was 
leaning back in his chair and tapping a gold pencil- 
case on the blotting-pad. 

His uncle looked at him curiously. 

“ I said young Vernham seemed a nice young fellow, 
Ned.” 

“ I heard you,” replied his nephew. 

“ What do you say ? ” 

“ That I think he is a bit of a prig.” 

“ Prig — how — why ? ” 

“ Well, for one reason, because of the way in which 
he referred to our client.” 

“In what way would you have him refer to her? It 
appeared to me he spoke very nicely about the girl. ” 

“ He spoke as if she were infinitely beneath him in 
rank.” 

“So she is.” 

“ As if she were some lower order of creation.” 

“ Do be reasonable, Ned. It isn’t like you to take 
unjust views. The young man talked about this girl 
Fermoy just as a young man ought to talk about a girl 
in her station. His tone was respectful — appreciative, 
friendly, but not familiar. I must say I was very much 
pleased both with his words and manner.” 

“Oh!” 

The elder Desborne burst out laughing. “ I knew 
it,” he exclaimed ; “I felt sure of it.” 

“ Sure of what ? ” 

“ That at the precise moment I appeared on the 
scene you had evolved a very pretty little plot with 
Messrs. Brice’s clerk for hero, and Timothy Fermoy’s 
daughter for heroine. Here is a steady young gentle- 


60 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


man, you thought, with no money — and there is a good 
young woman with too much — and then you were vexed 
to find he looked on the young woman with the eye of 
cool common-sense, that he was honestly her friend and 
not wrongly or foolishly her lover. I like very much 
to see you take off your hat to an old apple woman, as 
if she were a duchess ; there is a former-day chivalry 
and gallantry about your manner to the sex which has 
its charm, but in cool blood I suspect even j^ou would 
not consider an alliance between a female costermonger 
and a clergyman’s son a precisely desirable match.” 

“ She is not a female costermonger, and she will be 
an heiress rich enough to be run after by men of far 
higher rank than your friend Abner Vernham’s great- 
grandson.” 

“ Yes ; but he does not know that, and if he did I 
suspect it would not make much difference.” 

“ No ; because, as I said before, he is a bit of a prig. 
From the moment he began talking about his family I 
gave him up.” 

“ He did not say a word about his family till you 
asked him if he were connected with the Sussex Vern- 
hams.” 

“Who can only trace back to the Conquest,” added 
Mr. Edward Desborne, with a satire foreign to his 
nature. “ I do think a gentleman ought to wear his 
family as he does his clothes without drawing public 
attention to either.” 

“ And I think it the most proper and natural thing 
in the world that a man should feel proud of having 
come of an old stock.” 

“I do not see that we, at any rate, have much to boast 
of, even though our stock be old. Go back as far as 
we will, we cannot claim kindred with anyone more 
exalted than a London merchant.” 

“Many an English nobleman can trace no higher 
origin,” retorted Mr. Thomas Desborne, with a flush 
on his cheek ; “ and better far to be descended from an 
honest merchant than from g; profligate king and his 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


61 


light o’ love. Forgive me, Ned ; I ought not to have 
said that. I am very sorry,” added the speaker, with 
a quick tinge of compunction. 

“And I ought not to have said what I did,” returned 
his nephew, impetuously. “How foolish, wicked, I 
am. What is this girl, what is this young man, that 
they should cause me to vex you? You are sure I did 
not mean it. You know how much dearer you are to 
me than anyone except my wife,” and Edward Des- 
borne took his uncle’s hand in both of his and then 
stroked his sleeve with a tender, caressing affection un- 
speakably touching. 

“ I do know, Ned,” replied the other ; “ but there is 
something you will never know, and that is how dear 
you are to me.” 

After which remark there ensued a pause, during 
the continuance of which neither spoke. Then the 
elder man disengaged his hand, and, taking up some 
papers he had brought with him into the office, he 
went upstairs, while his nephew looked straight out 
of the window at the backs of the houses in Queen 
Street, thinking, perhaps, of the disappointment he had 
been to the kindest uncle that ever lived. 


CHAPTEK YI. 


ME. TKIPSDALE. 

After leaving Messrs. Desborne’s offices, Mr. Vern- 
ham turned his steps, as Aileen had previously bent 
hers, toward Dowgate Hill. 

Before he could reach that thoroughfare, however, 
he heard a sound as of some one hurrying behind him 
so fast, that even while he moved aside to give the in- 
dividual space to pass, he was surprised to hear the 
words, “ I beg your pardon, sir,” uttered quite close to 
his ear. 

Turning, he beheld a sight which surprised him — a 
youth wearing a gray felt top hat lower in the crowm 
and broader in the brim than fashion usually affects, 
a light tweed suit, a white waistcoat, a washing tie of 
a pale salmon color, in which was jauntily stuck a very 
sporting gold pin in the shape of a horseshoe, orna- 
mented with a pair of hunting crops artistically 
crossed ; not that Mr. Tripsdale, for indeed it was he 
and none other, patronized the turf, but the accessories 
appealed to his sense of beauty, and as he tersely put 
matters — “ If you do a thing at all, you ought to do 
the whole thing.” 

He had done the whole thing that day, and this mar- 
vellous get up was the consequence. 

‘‘Mr. Vernham?” he said, interrogatively, raising 
his hat as he spoke. 

Mr. Vernham acknowledged the soft impeachment 
and waited for further information. 

“In Messrs. Brice & Co.’s house?” gently insinu- 
ated Mr. Tripsdale. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


63 


“You are quite right. May I inquire why you ask 
the question ? ” 

“ Slerely for the purpose of identification,” was the 
reply. “It is somewhat awkward to thank the wrong 
person.” 

“ You are right, and it is quite certain I have done 
nothing to merit your thanks.” 

“ On the contrary you conferred a great favor on me 
last winter.” 

“ I !” exclaimed Mr. Yernham, amazed. “To the 
best of my belief, I never saw you before in my life.” 

“ And your belief is correct. Nevertheless, the fact 
remains that you did me a kindness for which I feel 
extremely grateful ; I accidentally heard a Mr. Vern- 
ham was with our Mr. Desborne, and thought I would 
wait outside on the chance of speaking to you.” 

“ But really I have no recollection of ever having 
served you in any way,” persisted the young man. 

“ That may well be ; but I am detaining you, sir. If 
you will allow me to walk with you — pray excuse my 
freedom — I mean no offence — I can explain. You trace 
no likeness, I suppose ? ” and Mr. Tripsdale presented 
a full front view of his face for inspection. 

“Nature must have broken the mould,” thought 
Philip Yernham. “ She never surely would attempt to 
cast such another set of features. But,” he answered, 
“ I cannot at the moment recall anyone you resemble.” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed the other, evidently disappointed. 
“Suppose we go down here.” 

“ It doesn't matter which way I walk so long as I get 
to the Minories eventually,” agreed Mr. Yernham, who 
perhaps felt as well pleased not to have to pace Cannon 
Street in company with that cane, that pin, and that 
hat. 

“Thank you. May I ask you to cast your memory 
back to the last 27th of December ? ” 

“ I have done so, and what then ? ” 

“On the morning of that day you travelled from 
Godaiming in a train which stopped at Wey bridge, 


64 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


where a little fellow— little, though older than myself 
— got into the same comi^artment.” ^ 

“ I remember him, a delicate-lookiSg lad.” 

“He is my brother.” The nods with which Mr. 
Tripsdale signed, sealed, and delivered, so to speak, 
this statement would be as impossible to describe as 
for any words to tell the pride, affection, and pleasure 
which pervaded voice and manner as he announced 
the relationship. 

“ Is he, indeed ! He interested me very much. I 
have often thought of him since then.” 

“ And he has often and often and often talked about 
you. Poor little chap, I don’t know what he would 
have done if you had not paid his fare for him. He is 
such a sensitive fellow ; his misfortune makes him, you 
know.” 

“ I noticed he was not quite straight.” 

“No one could help noticing it, and that painful 
limp. It was a fall out of his nurse’s arms injured 
him. But for that he would have been a fine tall 
man, taller than I am.” 

He might easily have topped his brother and not 
been a giant after all. But there was something so 
beautiful, so pathetic, in that brother’s love for the 
young life shadowed — for the stalwart frame dwarfed — 
that only a cynic could have smiled at the contrast be- 
tween the proportions suggested and the actual indi- 
vidual who instituted the comparison. 

“ I am so sorry,” said Mr. Vernham. 

“You would be if you knew him well. He is such 
a dear fellow, but, as a rule, shy with strangers. He 
says he can’t tell how it was he took so to you from the 
first. I wanted to call and pay 3^ou the monej’^ for him ; 
but no, nothing would do but he must go to Brice’s 
himself, and that was all because he hoped he might 
see you. He didn’t, though.” 

“ No, I was out.” 

“ He found the ticket after all, and they returned 
the money at Waterloo.” 


TBB BEAD OF TBE FIRM. 


65 


“ He mentioned the fact in his letter.*’ 

They were past Calvert’s Brewery and All Hallow’s 
Church by this time. Mr. Tripsdale was so careful to 
give his companion the curb and to prevent his being 
jostled that he walked in the roadway himself, at the 
peril of his life and to the danger of that tweed suit, 
which was never built to rub shoulders with the wheels 
of cabs, drays, and railway vans. 

It was in vain Mr. Vernharn entreated him to walk 
on the side-path. 

“I am doing very well, sir — very well indeed,” was 
the only answer he could elicit, and he felt quite a sense 
of relief when Messrs. Desborne’s clerk elected to leave 
Lower Thames Street, and turn up that vile-smelling 
covered passage which conducts to St. Mary-at-Hiil. 

“There are only the two of us,” said Mr. Tripsdale, 
pacing jauntily along, and keeping a distant eye on va- 
rious quiet, short cuts he meant presently to utilize. 

“ Yes, I gathered as much. I nope your brother is 
getting on well with the wood-engraving he spoke of.” 

“ He is doing very well, indeed, though that sort of 
work has gone somewhat out of fashion. He earns 
more than I do,” finished Mr. Tripsdale, with the air of 
a person stating a fact he expected might be found 
hard of belief. 

“Does he, really?” said Mr. Vernharn, surprised, not 
because he supposed the honorarium paid by Messrs. 
Desborne for his companion’s services was large, but 
because he had somehow mistakenly jumped to the 
conclusion that a wood-engraver’s wage must be small. 

Perhaps Mr. Edward Desborne had some reason for 
his remark about Aileen’s friend, who was inconceiv- 
ably ignorant concerning many matters of which peo- 
ple who have knocked about the world know, at least, 
something. When poverty enters the world’s lists 
clad in a complete suit of pride, the chances are 
against its making many friends, or of its learning to 
take a vast interest in the every-day, common, but 
often pathetically touching affairs of its neighbors. 


66 


TEE BEAD OF THE FIRM. 


It was partly for this reason, and partly because he 
had for years lived a self-contained, self-centred, and 
unnatural existence that Mr. Vernham knew as little 
about the concerns of his fellows as any gentleman 
well could. While Mr. Edward Desborne was a sym- 
pathetic listener to the story of everyone’s pains and 
pleasures, Mr. Vernham preferred, as a rule, not to 
hear anything concerning pains he was unable to re- 
lieve — pleasures in which he felt inclined to take no 
share. 

“He does, indeed,” said Mr. Tripsdale, gratified by 
his companion’s evident astonishment, while happily 
unaware of its source. “ Though he is such a little 
fellow to look at, he can turn out splendid work. Have 
you happened to see ‘ The Dragon and Grasshopper ’ 
wrapper ?” 

Mr. Vernham was obliged to confess he had not 
seen the wrapper in question. 

“ Well, then, you just should. It is on all the stalls. 
Do take a look the first time you have a chance. No 
need to buy, you know. Gus cut the whole thing. 
Wonderful for such a young chap ; but that, after all, 
is not what his heart is set on. He wants to be a reg- 
ular artist.” 

It would be utterly impossible to tell the triumph 
with which Mr. Tripsdale made this avowal. It was 
as though he had said his brother desired to be Prime 
Minister or Commander-in-Chief, and meant to com- 
pass his ambitions. 

The whole thing seemed to Mr. Vernham infinitely 
touching ; all the more so because he did not believe 
the quiet, pale-faced lad who had been so distressed 
for the want of a few shillings was possessed of any 
talent beyond that of mere manual dexteritj’’. 

Delicacy of touch, quickness of perception were 
qualities in which by reason of his very infirmity no 
doubt he excelled ; but the ability to engrave the work 
of others was one matter, while to conceive and exe- 
cute work of his own was quite another. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


67 


“Has your brother talent, genius, then?” he asked, 
merely because he felt constrained to say something. 

“Bless your heart, yes,” returned Mr. Tripsdale, 
falling into the familiarly -colloquial style, of which he 
had hitherto managed to steer clear. “ Excuse my 
rough speech, but I really could not help breaking 
out,” he went on ; “ if you only saw the fancies Gus 
puts on paper. All out of his own head he makes the 
loveliest drawings. Often when I am in our office or 
running about the city I think to myself how the deuce 
does he do it ? Where does he get his notions ? Poor 
little chap, and he is so contented and happy with it 
all.” 

To the outward ear there was a want of relevance 
about this latter remark, but to Mr. Vernham’s inner 
sense the connection of ideas was clear enough. 

“ I should like to see his drawings,” he said, moved 
by some influence, strange even to his own mind. 

“If you knew how proud it would make him I ” ex- 
claimed Mr. Tripsdale. “If you only heard what he 
has said about you over and over again ! Of course 
we are only two lads in a poor way of life, and we 
never, except in the course of business, have the 
chance of speaking to a gentleman like you. But that 
is the reason why GKis dwelt so much upon the notice 
you took of him and the nice way you talked. When- 
ever your name comes up his face lights up all over. 
I can just picture him wlien I get home this evening.” 

There is no wind of flattery so sweet as that which 
blows soft and warm round some unexpected corner ; 
and Mr. Vernham, being very human, succumbed to 
the influence of his companion’s implied compliment. 

We know how much more blessed it is to patronize 
than be patronized. To defend himself against tlie 
latter danger Philip Vernham had for years been going 
through the world clad in a complete suit of pride 
which guarded him effectually from all social assaults, 
but when those he considered inferiors apj^roached 
him properly, he covered his chain armor with the 


68 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


manner of an ordinary mortal and spoke graciously to 
men and women who knew “their places” and re- 
frained from familiarity. 

For this reason he was liked much better by the 
porters in Messrs. Brice’s establishment than by his 
fellow clerks who thought him a “stand-off” and 
“stuck-up” chap with nothing to support his preten- 
sions. 

This, indeed, chanced to be the trouble. There was 
nothing much in the young man of a salable and ser- 
viceable kind. He had no marketable talent whatever. 

He was one of the honest, plodding, useful men, born 
by millions at a time, who are never likely to make a 
fortune, and who can only humbly assist others to 
make their fortunes. When his father lost his money 
and died, the young fellow’s life was thrown utterly 
out of gear. Business was detestable to him ; the mad 
hurry, the keen competition, the unscrupulous advan- 
tage too often taken, the constant watchfulness neces- j 
sary, the continual precaution needful — all were hate- 
ful in the eyes of one whose choice would have led him 
to be a country clergy^man and a modest scholar. ^ 

He had no gift whatever as the world accounts gifts * 
— ordinary abilities, a high sense of honor, a desire to ■ 
do his duty both to God and man ; of what use were 1 
these things to a clerk in Brice’s house ? They did ! 
not give him five pounds yearly advance of salary. If [ 
he stayed with the firm till his hair grew gray he would ^ 
never get a couple of hundred per annum from his ex- 
ceedingly wise employers. He w^as worth no more than ? 
just what they paid. « 

A man under such circumstances must turn to some i 
course of consolation. * 

Pride was the form Mr. Vernham’s comforter as- ^ 
sumed. With many men it takes the shape of drink ; J 
after all an irrational pride is a safer demon to wel- | 
come into one’s soul. 

The demon was, however, leading Philip Vernham 
very safely as he listened to Mi\ Tripsdale’s words. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


69 


“Do you really think your brother would allow me 
to see some of his work ? ” he asked. 

“ Do I really think ? ” repeated Mr. Desborne’s clerk 
coming to a halt exactly opposite the church of St. 
Mary-at-Hill ; “ don’t I really know it would be the hap- 
piest minute in his life ? Because, mind you, he has 
nothing to be ashamed of in his work. I can’t draw a 
line, but when I look at a painting or an illustration I 
know whether it is good or bad — though I could not 
tell you why — and Gus’s work is good — it is better than 
good — and if the world ever gets a chance of seeing it 
the world will say the same. Meanwhile he can wait. 
If we were making hundreds a year between us I don’t 
think we could be happier than we are, though we live 
on a thii'd floor in Bartholomew Square.” 

“Little Britain?” suggested Mi’. Vernham. 

“ Bless you, no ; that’s Bartholomew Close. We live 
in Bartholomew Square, Old Street, near St. Luke’s 
Church.” 

“ Why, I pass close by there twice a day.” 

“Do you, now? That’s strange, too, ain’t it? Well, 
sir, excuse the liberty I’m taking, if some day you hap- 
pen to have five minutes to spare you would call. I 
know you’d make poor Gus laugh for joy.” 

“But I am never near Old Street, except in the 
morning or evening.” 

“ Morning or evening, mid-day or at dead of night, 
we’d be proud and happy to see you in our humble 
home. It is humble, Mr. Vernham, I don’t deny ; but 
then. Lor’, we couldn’t be snugger or happier if we’d 
a mansion in Carlton Gardens.” 

“ Possibly you might be less so,” answered Aileen’s 
friend. 

“ I’m sure we would. You’d never believe how quiet 
that square is in the summer evenings when the chil- 
dren are gone to bed. We sit by the open window in 
the dusk, and fancy we’re miles in the country. And 
it is better than any country to hear Gus talk about 
woods and meadows and rivers, water-lilies, and such 


70 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


like. I am not a great admirer of those out of Lon- 
don things myself, but I like to listen to Gus for all 
that.” 

“Are you not fond of the country, then ? ” 

“ No, sir, I am not ; and it puzzles me how anybody 
else can be fond of such a place. Still, it is beautiful 
the way Gus tells how he was awoke by the birds each 
morning giving a finer concert than he ever paid a 
shilling to hear at St. James’s Hall. But I’m detaining 
you, Mr. Vernham, and I ought to be getting back my- 
self. May I say to my brother that you will come and 
see him ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered the young man, with a little hesi- 
tation. 

“Don’t be afraid that we shall intrude on your 
kindness,” went on Mr. Tripsdale, noticing the hesita- 
tion and understanding its cause. “We know our 
place I hope, and how to keep it. Only Gus would 
take a visit as much as favor.” 

“If so small a thing can please him, he shall cer- 
tainly be gratified.” 

“ Thank you with all my heart and soul. And when, 
Mr. Vernham ? Don’t put it off too long. Hope de- 
ferred — you remember.” 

“ I will try to look in to-morrow evening. Will that 
be convenient to you ? ” 

“ As I said before, any day, any hour, you do us such 
an honor will be convenient.” 

“ Good-morning, then.” 

“ Good-morning, sir,” and Mr. Tripsdale raised his 
hat straight in the air about six inches, put it on his 
head again, and without another word or look departed. 


CHAPTEK Vn. 


CHECKMATE. 

Mr. Tripsdale went back to Cloak Lane as if tread- 
ing on air, and entered the office with a manner of 
being at peace with the whole world, which, in a per- 
son of so remarkable an appearance, might have been 
accounted as infinitely humble. 

It produced no impression, however, save one of 
irritation on a man who was standing with his back 
to the empty fire-grate — a middle-aged, middle-sized, 
stiffly built man, with short black hair, keen dark 
eyes, clean shaven face, and broad, capable forehead. 

“ I have a word to say to you,” he began, addressing 
Mr. Tripsdale. 

*‘Say on,” returned that irrepressible individual, 
hanging up his hat, and then standing at ease till the 
other should have finished. 

“ It is this. The next time I find you lying in wait 
for one of our clients, and ear-wigging him, you’ll go 
out of that door quicker than you ever came into it — 
not to enter this office again.” 

“ Oh ! you’re head boss here now, are you? It is as 
well to know.” 

“ I am boss enough for that, at any rate,” retorted 
the first speaker. “You would not have been here so 
long if Mr. Desborne had listened to my advice.” 

“ I am quite aware of that, thank you.” 

“Anyone but yourself might have rested satisfied 
with insulting Miss Fermoy. You, however, must in 
addition needs go and chatter about her affairs to her 
friend.” 


72 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ How clever we are.” 

“ If you give me much more impudence I will lay 
the whole thing before Mr. Desborne the moment he 
comes in.” 

“ You will do that anyhow.” 

“ Grin as much as you like, you will find this morn- 
ing’s work turn out no laughing matter.” 

“Well, well. Shut up now. If I am to be hung, 
drawn, and quartered, at least spare me an oration,” 
and with this remark Mr. Tripsdale was about to 
exchange his out of door coat for one which hung on 
a peg close to where his adversary stood, when that 
individual in an access of w’rath exclaimed : 

“ You, you mountebank, how dare you disgrace a re- 
spectable office by wearing such clothes ! You look 
more like a clown at a circus than a decent clerk.” 

Mr. Tripsdale left the pepper-and-salt coat he had 
been about to take down still hanging on its accus- 
tomed peg, while he turned and faced his opponent. 

“What is the matter with my clothes ?” he asked, 
casting an affectionate glance over his new suit. “They 
are a precious sight better than yours — and they are 
paid for, which, if all I can hear is ti’ue, Mr. Knevitt 
could not truthfully say about his.” 

“You infernal young liar, what do you mean by 
that?” 

“Fish and find out,” was the cool reply. “ You know 
so well what Mr. Vernham and I were talking about 
that you will have no difficulty in learning what the 
talk is about you.” 

“I don’t owe a penny in the world.” 

“ That is what you say.” 

“No one can say anything else.” 

“What is the disturbance,” asked a voice at this 
juncture, and looking round both the disputants be- 
held Mr. Edward Desborne, who had just returned, 
surveying his belligerent clerks with grave and an- 
noyed surprise. 

Mr. Tripsdale did not speak. “It was not my 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


73 


place/' lie explained afterward to Mr. Puckle, for 
which reason he contented himself with “ watching 
the case.” 

As for Mr. Knevitt, he was in such a white heat of 
rage that he could not for an instant find words to 
answer. 

“Have you been quarrelling?” went on Mr. Des- 
borne, in a tone almost of incredulity. 

Mr. Knevitt involuntarily moistened his parched 
lips with the tip of his tongue. IVIr. Tripsdale, still 
watching his own case, continued to maintain an im- 
partial silence. 

“ I had occasion to find fault with this young fellow,” 
said the elder clerk at last, “and he answered in the 
most impudent manner.” 

Mr. Desborne looked at the offender, who neither 
answered “ Guilty ” nor “ Not guilty,” only in silence 
sucked the tip of the office ruler as though smoking a 
calumet. He was reserving his defence. 

“You see he will not speak, sir,” added Mr. Knevitt 
in explanation and accusation. 

Still Mr. Tripsdale kept silence. 

“ What was his offence, Knevitt — something heinous, 
eh? ” asked Mr. Desborne. “ It must have been — you 
were talking so very loud.” 

“ He accused me of being in debt, and I do not owe 
a farthing in the world.” 

“ You ought to be a very happy man then,” observed 
his employer. 

“I am a very happy man,” returned the clerk with 
an expression which belied his words. “ But happy 
though I be, I do not intend to put up with impudence 
from a lad like that.” 

“ He called me a mountebank, sir,” said Mr. Trips- 
dale, with a graceful wave of the ruler, “ and found 
fault with my clothes.” 

“ What is wrong with his clothes ? ” asked Mr. Des- 
borne, kindly, rejoiced to think the young clerk’s sin 
was of no more deadly nature. 


74 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ Why, sir, only look at them. I wonder what your 
honored father would have thought if I ventured to 
appear before him in such motley ” 

“ Things have changed a good deal since you first 
came to my father, Knevitt,” answered Mr. Desborne, 
kindly ; “ and as for Tripsdale’s suit, I dare say he 
will find it very cool and comfortable during the hot 
weather.” 

“But you have not seen his hat, sir,” persisted Mr. 
Knevitt. “Put it on.” 

Like many amiable people, Mr. Desborne was not 
blessed or cursed with a keen sense of humor. Had 
he been, the spectacle of Mr. Tripsdale, with his arms 
held stiffiy to his side at “ attention,” and a martial 
frown on his brow, scowling at Mr. Knevitt from un- 
der the shadow of that broad-brimmed gray hat, must 
have proved irresistible. 

“Bather Quaker-like, perhaps,” said Mr. Desborne; 
“but it too, doubtless, proves pleasant wear on a 
sunny day, such as this, for instance.” 

“ Will you please tell Mr. Knevitt, sir, to put on his 
hat now for you to see,” said Mr. Tripsdale, with an 
air of aggrieved dignity. 

“ It is not necessary,” answered Mr. Desborne ; “ I 
know Mr. Knevitt’s hat quite w'ell,” and he moved as 
if to go, when the managing clerk detained him. 

“ I hope you do not imagine, sir,” he began, “ that 
the matter in dispute between us had anything really 
to do with dress. That was merely a side issue — the 
other affair is much more serious. Had Tripsdale re- 
ceived my warning as it was meant I probably might 
not have troubled you ; but his impertinence leaves me 
no choice. I have a most grave complaint to make 
against him.” 

“Pray, then, let us hear it at once,” said Mr. Des- 
borne, impatiently. 

^ “ When he heard Mr. Vernham was with you to-day 
his interest seemed so much excited that I confess I 
felt surprised, but as he often is excited, I thought no 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


75 


more about the matter, till on turning out of Cannon 
Street on my way back from Abchurch Lane I saw 
this promising youth walking down Dowgate Hill by 
the side of Mr. Vernham, and talking to him in the 
most confidential manner. Their conversation lasted 
— for I felt it was my duty to follow — till they parted 
by the Lantern Church. They were a long time to- 
gether — made many pauses, and spoke, as I could see, 
eagerly, no doubt, on the subject which brought Mr. 
Vernham here.” 

Mr. Desborne looked vexed. 

“I am sorry,” he said. “It is very strange. It 
sounds very unpleasant, but it may be capable of ex- 
planation. Is Mr. Knevitt correct in what he tells me, 
Tripsdale, or has he made any mistake ? ” 

“ He is quite correct in many respects, sir. I did 
wait outside till Mr. Vernham left you, and I did walk 
with him to St. Dunstan’s in the East.” 

“ Had you any previous acquaintance with the gen- 
tleman ? ” 

“ I never had the honor, sir, of seeing Mr. Vernham 
till to-day.” 

“You see, out of his own mouth he stands con- 
demned,” remarked Mr. Knevitt, eagerly. Upon hear- 
ing which observation, Mr. Tripsdale thrust the ruler 
again between his teeth, as if resolved nothing further 
of an incriminatory nature should proceed from the 
source indicated. 

“He may not have been talking, however, about 
Miss Fermoy,” said Mr. Desborne, amiably, anxious to 
find some loophole of escape for his erring clerk. 
“ Were you, Tripsdale ? ” 

The young fellow shook his head. 

“Don’t you believe him, sir ! ” exclaimed Mr. Knevitt, 
eagerly translating the sliake as a falsehood for the 
benefit of all whom the matter may concern. “I 
know all about it as well as if I had been down him 
with a light, the senior was going to say, but substi- 
tuted — “I had heard every word of the interview,” 


76 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


just in time. ‘‘ Remembering bow impertinent be bad 
been to Miss Fermoy, be thought to make it all right 
by currying favor with Mr. Vernbam, and telling him 
the amount of her fortune and other particulars you 
deemed it best to defer mentioning to the lady.” 

“ Live and learn,” muttered Mr. Tripsdale, sotto voce. 

“ What do you mean by saying Tripsdale was imper- 
tinent to Miss Fermoy ? I trust you are not laboring 
under some mistake.” 

“ Not at all, sir ; not at all,” answered Mr. Knevitt, 
briskly, feeling be was now walking on solid ground. 
“ When the lady called be insulted her most grossly. 
Did not be, Mr. Puckle ? ” 

“ Ob, come now, draw it mild,” expostulated Mr. 
Puckle, under bis breath, but otherwise be made no 
reply, good or bad. 

Mr. Desborne looked at bis subordinates as if una- 
ble to believe the evidence of bis senses. 

“ I really am astonished,” be said, “ not only to bear 
that Mr. Tripsdale so far forgot himself as to be rude 
to any client — more especially a woman ; but to find 
the circumstance was not reported to my uncle or me 
at once.” 

“Well, sir, you see we do not care to make mis- 
chief ! ” exclaimed Mr. Knevitt, a little crestfallen. 

“ You do, at any rate,” retorted Mr. Tripsdale, turn- 
ing upon him ; “ and I did not insult Miss Fermoy ; I 
did not say a disrespectful word to her. Did I, Mr. 
Puckle?” 

Poor Mr. Puckle — keeping one watchful eye on the 
door in order to intercept the entrance of any stranger, 
and the other turned in the direction of Mr. Knevitt, 
who refused to see bis mute appeal — found himself in 
a very tight corner. 

He, at all events, bad not intended to make mischief, 
and only told Mr. Knevitt about their Wbit-Tuesday 
incident that morning, as somehow or other, sooner or 
later, an adverse fate compelled him to tell Mr. Knevitt 
everything ; therefore he was quite unprepared for the 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


77 


violence of the storm now pelting about his ears. 
Driven to desperation between Scylla and Charybdis 
the unfortunate man answered : 

“It was not exactly what you said, of course, but the 
way you said it.” 

Mr. Tripsdale was quite shrewd enough to grasp the 
length, depth, and width of his perilous situation. 

Puckle was not going to stand by his friend, so he 
could only fight as one who has no ally. 

“ I confess I chaffed her,” he admitted, with the air 
of a prince pleading guilty to chucking a chambermaid 
under the chin ; “ but I meant no harm, and how could 
I know her for other than what she seemed?” 

“What do you mean by saying you ‘chaffed her?’ ” 
asked Mi\ Desbome with a sternness unusual to his 
manner. 

“ Nothing wrong, sir, I assure you, upon my sacred 
word and honor. It all happened this way. Let Mr. 
Knevitt say what he likes — she — Miss Fermoy — came 
in here the morning after Whit-Monday — a very awk- 
ward morning indeed — asking to see Mr. Desborne. 
She would not give her name or address or state her 
business, and it was not my fault if I took her for a 
barrow girl. You did yourself, Mr. Puckle.” 

“ Don’t appeal to me ! ” exclaimed Mr. Puckle. “ I 
took her for nothing, and answered her according ! ” 

“You see, sir,” said Mr. Tripsdale, apologetically 
triumphant. “ I hope you will not think I am taking 
a liberty if I venture to suggest that probably, when 
you met Miss Fermoy, it did not occur even to you 
that she was connected with the Upper Ten Thou- 
sand.” 

“It did not,” answered Mr. Desborne, overlooking 
the freedom of Mr. Tripsdale’s remark in his desire to 
deal justly ; “but she was a woman, and as such was 
entitled to all courtesy.” 

He paused. A total silence ensued then. 

“ I shall overlook the grave faults you have been 
guilty of on this occasion ; but must warn you to be 


78 


THE HEAE OF THE FIRM. 


careful in your conduct for the future/’ he added, be- 
fore entering his own office, the door of which he 
closed, leaving the three clerks together. 

Without hesitating for a moment, ]VIi\ Tripsdale 
walked to the door and knocked. 

“ Come in,” said ]VIi\ Desborne. “ Oh ! it is you, 
Tripsdale, is it ? I really think you had better not say 
anything more ” 

“I must say something more, sir. I can’t sit down 
patiently under Mr. Knevitt’s accusation without ut- 
tering a word in my own defence. He has long been 

wanting to get his knife into me, and ” 

“ That will do, that will do,” interrupted Mr. Des- 
borne. “ You had every chance given you of offering 
an explanation, and it was your own fault that you 
refused to give one. I cannot reopen the question.” 

“ Sir — Mr. Desborne — you have been always fair to 
me. I know you will be fair now. I could not and 
would not defend myself from such an accusation with i 
Mr. Knevitt, who is always down upon me, standing 
there. I have never told you an untruth ; I am not in 
the habit of telHng untruths, and I assure you solemnly 
that Miss Fermoy’s name was never mentioned between 
me and Mr. Vernham. Till Mr. Knevitt stated the 
fact I was not aware Mr. Vernham knew her. I waited 
for him outside, I admit, and spoke to him, but only 
to express my gratitude for an act of kindness he did 
my brother, who is — delicate.” 

“lam sorry, Tripsdale, you felt unable to say this 
earlier.” i 


“You don’t believe me, sir — will you ask Mr. Vern- 
ham? He w^ould tell you the same. As for talking 
office affairs out of the office, I have never done so ; 
honor is honor, and a clerk may possess as keen a 
sense of it as an archbishop.” 

During all the years Mr. Desbome’s firm had been 
privileged to pay AIi’. Tripsdale a salary, the head of it 
had never heard that individual make so long a speech ; 
his answer usually being wellnigh confined to the 


I 

I 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


79 


scnptural “yeca” and “nay,” and it may at once be 
said the speech did not produce a good impression. 

“ I shall certainly not mention the subject to Mr. 
Vernham,” Mr. Desborne returned, coldly. “I am 
willing to take your word in the matter, and only wish 
you could have given an equally emphatic denial to the 
charge of having treated Miss Fermoy with discour- 
tesy.” 

“ I did not mean to be discourteous, sir, and I don’t 
think I was — exactly. I chaffed her certainly, but not 
in the way you suppose. I should think very little of 
myself if I spoke disrespectfully even to a gutter girl.” 

“ Clearly understand in this office I expect civility 
to be shown to the poorest and lowest creature who 
walks the London pavements. If I hear another com- 
plaint of your behavior I shall have to speak more 
severely.” 

“ But, sir, I was civil, only I talked perhaps a little 
over her head, and I am sorry for it — very sorry.” 

“That is sufficient; do not let such a thing occur 
again ; now we will say no more concerning this un- 
pleasant affair,” and Mr. Desborne made a sign of dis- 
missal which the offender felt bound to obey, though his 
heart was full to overflowing of unuttered explanations. 

It was so full, and he felt his employer’s reproof so 
keenly, that without addressing one word to Mr. Puckle, 
who looked up as though expecting some communica- 
tion, he went straight to his desk and indited the fol- 
lowing epistle : 

“ To Edward Desborne, Esq., 

“ Solicitor, Cloak Lane. 

“ Honored Sir — As it is obvious that I have had the 
misfortune to lose your confidence, I feel there is but 
one course open — namely, to resign my situation, which 
I now do, and with your kind permission will leave as 
soon as you have found someone to fill my place more 
efficiently. Your very obedient servant, 

‘ ‘ Ferdinand Tripsdale. ’ ’ 


80 


TEE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


It must not be supposed that this business-like 
“notice to quit” sprang into life from Mr. Tripsdales 
brain in the perfect form presented. Many sheets of 
office note-paper were spoiled ere the above result was 
arrived at, a fair letter written, and a true copy made. 

After these things were done, the communication 
for Mr. Desborne placed in a directed envelope, and 
the duplicate folded up and put in his own inner 
pocket, the young clerk laid all the “ waste ” in the 
empty grate, set a match to it, and watched till not a 
tell-tale atom remained behind ; then he knocked again 
on the panel of his employer’s door and waited. No 
answer came, so he went in, left the note where it 
would be seen immediately anyone entered, and came 
out again, with the look of a person who has passed 
the Kubicon, and is, though determined, sorry. 

He was very sorry. He thoroughly realized what he 
had done. He had never been in another situation. 
“ Desborne’s was home to him,” as he mentally put it — 
board, lodging, washing, and fuel — and now he would 
have to search for the wherewithal to provide those 
necessaries elsewhere. He would have to consort with 
strange people and get into the ways of unfamiliar of- 
fices, and this was worse than anything ; he would be 
obliged to tell his brother what had happened — that 
brother he tried to spare as a mother might her child. 

His heart was very sore and heavy within him as he 
seated himself again on his stool and resumed the 
work he had left in order to waylay Mr. Vernham. 

“ Much of a row ? ” asked Mr. Puckle, whose curios- 
ity would not alloAV him to refrain from questioning 
any longer. 

“ No ; dismissed with a caution,” answered Mr. Trips- 
dale, airily. 

“ What were you writing that brief about, then ? ” 

“ My own business,” was the reply. 

“You might tell me.” 

“ I might, but I won’t. I am not going to tell you 
anything again, ever.” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


81 


“ Please yourself.’* 

“ That is just what I intend to do.” * 

Time went on, and as it went Mr. Tripsdale’s heart 
grew heavier. He worked like a very demon in his 
endeavor to kill thought, and leaving Mr. Puckle to 
answer all inquiries, devoted himself to making u]d ar- 
rears in a manner which amazed his slower companion. 

It was when he was most deeply engaged that Mr. 
Kiievitt entered, and, throwing a letter down on his 
desk, said — “ Take that to Chancery Lane, and bring 
back an answer.” 

“ Take it yourself,” retorted Mr. Tiipsdale ; “ I am 
not your ticket porter.” 

Ml-. Knevitt looked at him for a moment, wdth the 
expression of one longing for a fight, then picked up 
the letter and left the office. 

“ You are doing it effectually,” observed Mr. Puckle, 
who could not see such things done and keep silence. 

‘‘ Doing what ? ” 

“ Cutting your own throat.” 

Presently there sounded a muffled whistle. 

“ Yes, sir,” said Mi*. Puckle, whose desk was close to 
the tube, to which he immediately applied his ear. 

“You are wanted upstairs,” he observed to Mr. 
Tripsdale, taking his ear from the tube. 

Mr. Tripsdale descended from his stool, and march- 
ing out of the office defiantly, mounted to the first 
floor, where he found Mr. Edward Desborne and his 
uncle. 

His own missive was lying open before the latter 
gentleman, who said, in a calm, dispassionate tone : 

“Tripsdale, we have decided to return this letter 
into your own hands, and I will tell you the why. If 
we allow you to go we must state the reason to any- 
one that may apply to us, and it would do you harm. 
Do not be foolish — do not allow your temper to get 
the better of your judgment. We are all liable to 
make mistakes^ and the best thing to do is to try to 
avoid making them in the future. Now you can go,” 


82 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


with which curt dismissal Mr. Tripsdale was departing 
as meekly as a lamb, when the speaker added — “ Oh ! 
just one thing more. Look through your wardrobe 
this evening, and try to find a suit better adapted for 
city work than the one you have been wearing lately. 
That is all.” 

Mr . Tripsdale went out and stood on the landing 
speechless with rage — stood biting his nails savagely 
and lifting one foot and then the other, in a desperate 
effort to refrain from executing a war-dance. 

“Checkmate, by Jove!” he muttered. “Check- 
mate.” He was quite clever enough to grasp the situ- 
ation instantly. 

“If I give them notice,” he thought, “they will say 
I left in a fit of temper because I did not like my dress 
being interfered with ; and if I don’t put on different 
clothes, they will give me notice. Hang it all 1 I can’t 
throw up my berth over a summer suit,” and he slowly 
began to descend the staircase, grasping the baluster 
rail tightly, as if it had offended him. 

“ Never mind, Mr. Knevitt, never mind,” he finished. 
“ My day will come, and when it does I won’t forget 
you — oh, dear no 1 ” which mental exclamation afforded 
him so much satisfaction that he went down the re- 
mainder of the flight in double-quick time, and re-en- 
tered the clerks’ office in the character of “ Richard is 
himself again 1 ” 


CHAPTEE Vm. 


A STRANGE INTERIOR. 

When Philip Vernham, on the following evening, en- 
tered Bartholomew Square the first person he saw was 
Mr. Ferdinand Tripsdale clothed in sad attire and 
quite in his right mind. 

“ I thought you might have a trouble in finding our 
number,” he said, raising his hat ceremoniously, ‘‘so 
took the liberty of waiting about for you. Gus wanted 
to come and wait about too, but I would not let him. 
He is not over strong,” after which utterance he re- 
lapsed into silence with the view of permitting Mr. 
Vernham’s fascinated gaze to wander over the beauties 
of Bartholomew Square. 

“ I did not imagine there was such a quiet nook hid- 
den away here,” remarked that gentleman. 

“ It is a curious thing and one I have often noticed,” 
answered JVIr. Tripsdale, pacing along with the air of 
a guide personally conducting some prince of the blood 
through a strange country, “ that no matter how well 
a man knows his London he never knows it thoroughly. 
It is a city of surprises. Why even I, who know its 
nooks and corners as well as I do my alphabet, am al- 
ways coming across something new. It was only the 
other day I tumbled over, as I may say, six dolls’ 
houses — alms, you know — such tiny bits of places, with 
green cottage doors, flowers in the window, and all the 
rest of it, just at the back of Moorgate Street — that I 
have never seen before. This way, if you please, sir,” 
and, indicating an open door, he escorted his visitor 
up two flights of stairs, and entering a front room on 


84 THE HEAD OP THE FIRM. 

the second floor, exclaimed — “ Gus, who do you think 
this is ? ” 

A young fellow with a pale sweet face came shyly 
forward and said — “ Mr. Vernham, is it really you ? ” 

That was all, but his eyes were beaming with joy, 
and the hand he offered trembling with pleasurable 
excitement. 

“Where will you sit ? ” asked the younger brother, 
as their visitor stood silent, vainly searching for some- 
thing to say. “ Where will you sit ? ” with the satis- 
fied air of one who feels he owns a vista of “ marble 
halls ” and hundreds of “ vassals and serfs to com- 
mand.” 

He had noted the effect their second floor front had 
produced on Mr. Vernham and felt wild with rapture. 

“ Thank you, anywhere,” replied Aileen’s friend, tak- 
ing the nearest chair. “ What a delightful room this 
is ; you must forgive me for making such a remark.” 

“You think it really passable ? ” said Mr. Ferdinand 
Tripsdale. 

“ I think it really lovely,” was the reply. 

“It is all his doing,” declared the elder brother. 

“It is all Gussy’s doing,” affirmed the other, 

“ I do not know when I saw such beautiful old furni- 
ture,” observed Mr. Vernham. 

“ Got for a mere song,” explained Mr. Ferdinand 
Tripsdale. “ Mind, though, it was not like this when 
we bought it. The way we did the trick — but possibly 
I weary you, sir?” 

“ On the contrary, I am immensely interested.” 

“ Wffien we came here, just six years ago, we had 
nothing but a few cane chairs, the table you see (in- 
dicating a heavy oblong oak table, black with age, 
standing on legs that looked like thick black rope 
loosely twisted, rising from an under framework of the 
same pattern), and the chair you are sitting on, which 
I hope you find comfortable.” 

“ I do, indeed,” and Philip Vernham rose in order 
to view the piece of furniture in question, which was 


THE HEAD OF TEE FIRM. 


85 


exceedingly tall and straight in the back, and even 
more remarkably nobbly and corded about the legs, 
than its friend the table, and seemed, moreover, af- 
flicted in every possible joint with chalk stones. “ A 
divine chair, a chair for Art to rave about ! ” 

“ When Gus got into regular work,” proceeded Mr. 
Tripsdale, “ and my salary was raised a bit, the ques- 
tion arose whether we ought not to begin to furnish. 
We both thought it would only be right, but our views 
were different. My view was the walnut wood suit — 
Gussy’s wasn’t, so he undertook to ‘educate my taste.’ 
This is the result.” 

“ You could not have a more charming result,” said 
Mr. Vernham, looking round a room wainscoted in 
oak up to about three feet from the floor, and above 
divided into panels, the centres of which were painted 
a cool, subdued color, while the dividing portions 
matched the wainscot. In each division hung an an- 
cient engraving or piece of quaint embroidery, and the 
whole effect, if not in accordance with the canons of 
true art, was pleasantly like art, and sufficiently sug- 
gestive to remind an on-looker thankfully of modest 
old-world homes, where lavender bags scented the 
linen press and all fragrant herbs and useful cordials 
found their place in the housewife’s cupboard. 

“I can’t say those nobbly things are exactly my 
style, even after all the time Gus has spent upon edu- 
cating me,” proceeded the younger brother; “but I 
don’t think them as strange as I used to do, and as I 
see the same sort often in pictures, I suppose it is 
quite right. We’ve had an enormous amount of fun 
over our house-furnishing anyhow — we’ve been to all 
sorts and sizes of places, and met with many queer 
characters. Down at the East End, among the small 
dealers, we picked up most of what you see for as many 
shillings as we should have paid pounds west of Hol- 
born. Often we hired a truck and brought them home 
ourselves, had them scrubbed, and then set to work to 
put a new face upon them. The samplers and worsted 


86 


TBE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


pictures are sent to the cleaner. Polly says we ought 
to be burnt out so as to clear all this rubbish away, 
but I don’t see that myself. I like to look at them, if 
only to remind me of the nights we walked through 
Bow and Bromley and Stratford, keeping our eyes 
open. Why, this room is as good as a diary to me — 
that is the way I put it to Polly — but, bless you, there 
is no convincing women ! ” 

“Is Polly your sister?” asked Mr. Vernham. 

“My sister-in-law who is to be,” amended Mr. 
Tripsdale. 

“Indeed! is that so?” and Mr. Vernham looked at 
the elder brother, who remarked, with a smile : 

“According to Reggie. I think, however, he had 
better marry her himself.” 

“ My future wife’s name will not be Polly, but Suc- 
cess,” declared Reggie, with an emphasis which sur- 
prised the visitor. “I shall woo no bride except Miss 
Getting-on-in-the-world. I mean to make money — lots 
of it, and you, Gus, must win fame and carry on the 
family.” 

“And how do you propose to make lots of money ? ” 
asked Mr. Vernham, really interested to hear. 

“Well, sir, I don’t mean to remain a clerk all my 
life. There will be some money coming to us one of 
these days — it does not depend on anybody’s caprice 
or will that can be fought over, but it must come on to 
Bartholomew Square when our great-grand- aunt re- 
tires from this world to a better. I am sure I don’t 
wish anyone to die, but still, when an old lady has had 
the enjoyment of money for over ninety-seven years, 
and can find nothing else to do in life save sucking her 
gums, which have long been toothless, I say it is time 
for her to take a front seat in heaven, where none of 
the family believe they will ever meet us.” 

“Why?” asked Mr. Vernham. 

“First and foremost, because we must have £2,000, 
which is so splendidly invested that it returns £130 a 
year j second, and as a sort of clincher to the first, be- 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


87 


cause Gus is going to be an artist and I a lawyer ; and, 
third, in the way of ‘summing up,’ because we are 
both too uppish — just fancy poor Gus ‘ uppish.’ ” 

“ I can’t really,” said Mr. Vernbam, with a smile. 

“ You see, our great-grand-uncle, who probably knew 
his wife better than most men, forecasting what would 
happen, left his money to her only for life. After his 
death she remarried almost immediately and had a 
large fine family, and you may imagine there would be 
a nice complication were the money at her disposal, 
which it is not ; and that is what makes all her sons 
and daughters so mad. 

“In the ordinary course of nature our father ought 
to have had that £2,000 years and years ago, but the 
old lady held on. When I think of all the good he 
could have done for himself and others had she slided 
off when she was about seventy eight, I feel inclined to 
doubt whether Providence takes so accurate a view of 
family affairs as might be wished. Gus tells me I am 
cross, and that I ought not to say such things, but I 
can’t think I am so very far out after all.” 

“ You are,” said the elder brother with more firm- 
ness than Mr. Vernham could have given him credit 
for, “you are indeed, Eeggie. Supposing an5'one 
spoke in that tone about our father how, should you 
have liked it ? Besides,” he added with a twinkle in 
his eyes, “ to put the matter on no higher ground, it is 
foolish to say such things. We had figuratively the 
old door shut in our faces in consequence of just such 
a speech ; and Elder Farm is a pleasant place to go 
to,” at which thought the lad sighed. “ Some persons’ 
lives do not hold the memory of so many pleasant 
places that they can scarcely see one closed to them 
without regret.” 

“ It is a pleasant enough place, especially about 
Christmas time,” confessed Mr. Tripsdale, manifestly 
disconcerted by his brother’s statement. “Gus got 
his taste for- old oak then,” he continued, addressing 
their visitor. “Lord, you should see the kitchen fire- 


88 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


place with dogs and settles round, and great pots that 
might have served Jack the Giant Killer’s giant to boil 
his victuals in. There are cupboards in that house, 
and buffets, and arm-chairs, I am told, that could not 
be matched in England, and Gus is right enough. I 
did say what slammed the door in our faces, and yet 
it was not much after all. An old gentleman last 
Christmas year began maundering about the fine voice 
our great-grand-aunt rejoiced in when she was a girl, 
and I could not help saying, as our great- grand- aunt 
had rejoiced in such a voice so long ago, ‘I thought it 
was high time for her to secure a permanent engage- 
ment in the Celestial Choir,’ which chance remark, of 
course, went round the family like wild-fire, with the 
result Gus indicated.” 

“ Well, of course it was not quite nice,” persisted the 
elder brother ; “anyone hearing such a remark might 
have imagined you wished her dead.” 

“That was just what she said, and when I declared 
I hoped she would live to dance on our graves, told me 
I was telling — well, she put it forcibly — lies.” 

“ I suppose she was pretty neai’ly right,” observed 
Mr. Vernham. 

“No, I don’t want her to die. She is welcome to 
live another hundred years for me, but I should like 
some of that money before Gus and I arrive at an age 
when we can do nothing but sink our graves and make 
ourselves disagreeable.” 

“People can make themselves disagreeable at any 
age. It is not necessary to be ninety-seven to do 
that,” said Gus. 

^ “I had better change the subject, perhaps,” returned 
his brother, with a good-tempered laugh. “ Show Mr. 
Vernham some of your fancies, Michael Angelo. Now, 
don’t be shy,” he added. “You order him to open his 
portfolio, sir. He will do what you tell him.” 

“I should like greatly to see a few of your sketches,” 
began the visitor, who having noted with dismay that 
an abundant tea was laid for three persons, had been 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


89 


considering for some time how he could most easily 
and quickly effect his exit. “ I am rather pressed for 
time ; but if you could favor me with a peep at draw- 
ings it would gratify me very much.” 

“Please do hot talk of running away yet, sir,” inter- 
posed Mr. Desborne's clerk, “or I shall think I have 
frightened you with my foolish talk. You must have 
tea somewhere, Mr. Vernliam, and Gus and I hoped 
you would excuse our freedom if we asked you to have 
a cup with us. As I said before, you need not be 
afraid of our intruding. We are not people who want 
to take an ell if anyone gives us an inch, but we 
should esteem it an honor if you could have your meal 
with us.” 

“I should be a churl if I refused,” answered Mr. 
Vernham, immeasurably relieved, for he had been ex- 
pecting the advent of Polly or someone else equally 
objectionable, and to know the lads had kept faith with 
him and had spread a feast in his honor seemed pleas- 
ant to the man so few, so very few delighted to con- 
sider. 

“We thank you,” said Mr. Reginald Tripsdale, with 
the air of a Grandison, “though it is only what we 
might have expected. Now, Gus, look alive,” he went 
on in a quite different tone, “produce your wares and 
show your samples ; at last a judge is going to inspect 
them.” 

“Indeed, I am no judge,” declared Philip Vemham 
very earnestly. “ I do not know much about pictures ; 
I only know what I like.” 

“Pressing a case,” was the reply, “I know what I 
like, and that is Gussy's work. We are not always at 
one on the old oak question, but when he gets among 
the trees and the fairies I say nothing can beat him, 
and you’ll say the same, sir, or I’m a Dutchman.” 

“ Reggie, why will you trouble Mr. Vernham about 
our poor sketches,” remonstrated Reginald’s brother ; 
“I am sure he cannot ” 

“I am sure he can and will,” interposed Mr. Trips- 


90 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


dale. ‘‘Do you suppose lie ever would have come 
here only to listen to our babble? Well, if you won’t 
show him yourself, I will.” 

“Just come here, Mr. Vernham,” and Mr. Trips- 
dale led the visitor behind a screen which shut the 
farther window off from the rest of the room, making 
an apartment within an apartment, which, though only 
furnished with a small table and office chair, an easel, 
and a stand containing flowers, seemed delightfully 
quaint and charming. “ This is where he does his 
engraving,” said Eeginald, indicating the table, “and 
there he puts his fancies on paper,” indicating the 
easel. 

“Is that fancy? ” asked Mr. Vernham, pointing to a 
portrait which seemed to smile sadly at him as he 
stepped within the screen. “What a lovely face.” 

“ No,” answered the artist, who had followed the 
speaker with a face more flushed and a gait more tardy 
than usual. “ I forgot I had left her there. That is 
Keggie’s sister-in-law, who is 7iot to be.” 

“She is very beautiful.” 

“ It is not a bit like her,” said Mr. Tripsdale. “She 
laughs at it herself. Who wants a wife with such a 
die-away, broken-hearted look as that girl has ? I just 
think I see Polly going about the streets wearing such 
a hat and such a Norah Creina dress, and carrying a 
bushel measure full of w'ater-lilies in her arms. ‘No, 
you couldn’t catch me making such a guy of myself,’ 
she said the other day. Here is the real Polly.” 

Philip took the photograph presented to him and 
examined it curiously. The likeness was that of a 
comely, good-humored, practical sort of girl, with reg- 
ular features and a peculiarly decided and determined 
expression pervading her appearance. Her dress fitted 
like a glove ; there was not a crease or fold about it. 
Her fringe was carefully curled, and the remainder of 
her hair piled scientifically on the top of her head, i* 
Not a lock was out of place ; not a plait in her gown j- 
but looked as if it had been constructed with the aid | 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


91 


of a plumb-line. Every button of her bodice came out 
clearly as though each had been touched up separately. 
She was a good type of the London girl of her period 
in the class to which she belonged — self-satisfied, capa- 
ble, industrious, hard, honest, able to take care of her- 
self, and possibly of others ; but she was not the girl 
who smiled sadly from the easel — mournfully, and 
with a wistful tenderness Polly’s face had never known. 

Yet Philip Vernham could trace a likeness, a subtle 
indefinable likeness which seemed wonderful to him. 
The maiden who held those fair water-lilies still drip- 
ping from their river home, who had every grace of 
form and face, the pliant figure, the soft suggested 
movements which the old artists understood so well 
that give an added charm to the fairest woman, never 
could have resembled that smart, tidy, well-dressed, 
conscious Polly the photographer’s skill had repro- 
duced with such cruel accuracy ; but still there was a 
likeness, which might have been of the spirit impris- 
oned within buxom Polly’s fleshly tabernacle. 

“I do not understand where you got this girl,” said 
the visitor, after a long wondering look at the face 
which seemed mystified also. 

“ I got her from Polly,” answered the painter. 

“Yes — but — — ” and Mr. Vernham hesitated. 

“ Have you never seen, when talking to some friend, 
an expression quite unfamiliar come into his counte- 
nance and change it ? ” 

“I have— an unpleasant expression,” answered the 
visitor, at which reply Mr. Eeginald Tripsdale laughed 
appreciatively. 

“ Ah ! when you have been arguing or quarrelling 
perhaps,” said Augustus Tripsdale, who had forgotten 
his shyness in that earnest belief in his art which car- 
' ries true workers over “ brake, bush, and scaur.” 

I “ But that is not what I mean. When sitting quietly, 
j you and a friend together— you and he, perhaps, not 
! even speaking — have you never noticed an expression 
I sweep across his face, a look leap into his eyes, or some 


92 THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 

unwonted feeling part liis lips, wliicli changed him for 
the moment almost into another person ? ” 

Philip Vernham shook his head. 

“You must have seen,” persisted the other, “but 
perhaps you did not notice ; that is the difference be- 
tween artists and most people. What I mean is, some- 
times a window generally closed and curtained seems 
suddenly to be flung wdde, and the soul looks out for 
a moment ; the soul as God made it, but which has 
got housed, to our thinking, unworthily. You do not 
understand me yet, I see. Well, I will put the case 
differently,” and the bright, clever eyes and the eager, 
sensitive face were turned to the non-comprehending 
visitor, while Eeginald Tripsdale exclaimed delight- 
edly : 

“He is on his hobby-horse now, Mr. Vernham, 
After all, Gussie, I am not the only one in the world 
who is unable to follow you.” 

“Mr. Vernham will follow me presently,” returned 
the lad, whose soul had found so poor a mortal lodg- 
ing. “ Have you ever,” he went on, addressing their 
visitor, “ seen some rough, untutored fellow' stretched 
on a bed of sickness, ill unto death ? No? Then what 
am I to do ? How shall I explain ? ” 

“Just talk on,” suggested Mr. Vernham ; “tell me 
what you have seen and thought, and though I am 
very dense, no doubt I shall grasp your meaning pres- 
ently.” 

“ It is I who am obscure,” said the young artist, 
humbly ; “but I will try to be plainer, for I should like 
you to think with me. I said a minute ago some rough, 
untutored fellow, and I have seen that too ; but what 
I had particularly in my mind was a rough, loud-voiced, 
coarse-featured trashwoman, the least lovely creature 
externally I ever beheld, though possessed of a heart 
of gold. When she lay a-dying I went to see her, and 
I never was so amazed. Coming death succeeded in 
effacing all the hard lines a hard life had graven on her 
face. Her skin was like that of a little child, the 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


93 


wasted hand she held out was soft and white as the 
most delicate lady’s, and in the eyes I remembered so 
dull and weary there shone the light of God's eternal 
peace. I have seen in dying people that marvellous 
change over and over again.” 

Mr. Vernham stood thoughtful. He was consider- 
ing. He was better born, better bred, better nurtured 
than the youth who spoke. He was the son of a clergy- 
man. Such sights as Augustus Tripsdale talked of 
ought to have been familiar to him, yet he had never 
seen the things referred to. Was he of those who hav- 
ing eyes see not, and having ears hear not ? A very 
serious question to propound to himself in the case of 
any man, and doubly serious in the case of such a man 
as Philip Vernham, who had hitherto gone through 
the world little satisfied with other people, while much, 
though unconsciously, satisfied with himself. 

“Your idea is,” he at last said, slowly, “that most 
men have two natures, one which their fellows see and 
another of which an occasional glimpse is only caught.” 

“Yes, that is my idea,” agreed the young fellow, 
pleased at being understood so far, and confident Mr. 
Vernham would grasp the further belief involved in 
his fancy when he thought the matter more fully out. 

“ And you saw this face,” indicating the lovely maiden 
with such sad, tender eyes, “ looking out of Miss Polly’s 
open window?” 

“ No, I won’t go so far as that,” answered the artist. 
“If I had” — and he stopped, but Philip Vernham 
comprehended he might but for his brother’s presence 
have added, “ I should have tried to win her.” 

“I saw something which inspired the picture,” he 
went on, feeling the pause awkward. “ I am so glad 
you like it.” 

“Indeed, I do,” said Mr. Vernham. 

“ As a fancy sketch, it is all very well,” interposed 
Reginald Tripsdale, “ but for practical purposes, for a 
good daughter, a capital manager, a shrewd young 
woman, a jolly, sensible, companionable girl, give me 


94 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


Polly ; no nonsense about her, no die-awa}’', lackadaisical 
rubbish there— a practical, useful, helpful, economical 
girl, Mr. Vernham, just the wife to keep things together 
for a foolish, dreamy, clever young idiot like Gussy. 
Whenever she has ten minutes to spare she comes here 
to keep him straight.” 

“She does,” said Gussy, “and I often wish she 
would keep away. If she would come when you are at 
home I should not mind, but she does hinder me so.” 

Here was a state of innocence which Mr. Vernham 
surveyed in dismay — a nineteenth century Garden of 
Eden before the fall that seemed impossible to his 
sophisticated imagination. 

A buxom, healthy, capable, young girl paying visits 
to a solitary young man all “ her lone ; ” lecturing 
him, advising him, making love to him no doubt. 
Truly there were things in London a good deal beyond 
“ his ” philosophy. 

“ She has always been like a sister to us,” explained 
the younger brother ; “ she blows up our charwoman, 
mends our linen, interviews our laundress — we could 
not get on without Polly. How the deuce she finds 
time for all the work she gets through I can’t imagine. 
She nurses her mother, who is delicate ; keeps her 
father straight, who is an old fool ; sees to her young 
brothers and sisters, and really runs a lodging-house 
in Claremont Square, which keeps the family. No 
wonder Gussy’s ‘ beauty ’ disgusts her. With a face 
like that at the head of affairs the family would be in 
the Bankruptcy Court within a twelve month. But 
all this is outside Gussy’s work. Look here, Mr. Vern- 
ham.” 

“ Do you mean to say you have evolved all these 
sketches out of your own imagination ? ” asked Philip 
Vernham fifteen minutes later in that, to him, eventful 
evening. 

“ The ideas, ‘ yes ; ’ the adjuncts, ‘ no, ’ ” was the re- 
ply. “ The scenery is all taken from the Upper 
Thames, the ‘ little people ’ and their doings came to me.'* 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


95 


“ How do you mean ‘ came to you ? ’ ” 

“ Precisely what I say. You do not know the lovely 
notions which come to me when lying awake at night, 
while Keggie is like Miss Flanagan in the Irish ballad, 
‘sound asleep and snoriDg.’” 

“I beg to say,” interposed Reggie, with dignity, 
“ that I lie awake o’ nights also, considering my future 
position as Solicitor-General.” 

“ He sleeps like a top, Mr. Vernham.” 

“ So would you if you had as much on your mind as 
I have on mine,” was the quick, if inconsequent, retort. 

Well, as I haven’t, I lie awake,” answered his 
brother, “ and see many things feebly reproduced. 
There I see the trembling leaves ; I see the w'ater-lilies 
springing up after fairy feet have pressed them. I 
know why the grass by the river's edge looks trampled 
in the morning, and who has gathered the wild flowers 
in Runnymede over night. I could tell you where the 
good people have been holding high festival, and mark 
the precise spot where the witches last met.” 

Philip Vernham looked at the speaker in amazement. 

Were such fancies possible in Bartholomew Square, 
where dwelt tailors, bootmakers, watchmakers, and 
such like ? 

Could genius dwell there too and lie awake o’ nights 
garnering its wondrous fantasies? It seemed so, 
though the fact appeared incredible. 

“Come and have some tea, Mr. Vernham,” said the 
practical Reginald. “ After that lot of idealism I 
should think you must be hungrj’. I hope you will 
like our tea. We get it from a friend in the trade. 
Those strawberries grow in a market garden down 
east, where the proprietor lets Gus gather for him- 
self. The cake and ham are of Polly’s providing, so I 
need say nothing about them.” 

“Is it not very early for strawberries?” asked the 
visitor. 

“ Yes, rather, I imagine,” answered Gus, who was 
careful not to say those he had bought were forced, 


96 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


and then they sat round the table, Keginald acting as 
host, and the meal began. 

It was a much better meal than Mr. Vernham would 
have had at home. The rate of exchange in London, 
as between landlady and lodger, tells heavily against 
the latter, and even if this were not so how is a man 
to pay for his rooms, light, fire, and dress out of 
thirty" shillings a week, and live luxuriously on the 
balance left ? 

Yet the Tripsdales on their joint incomes managed 
to live well and save money also. 

“ When my aunt, that is, our mother’s sister, died — 
she was housekeeper to a wine merchant, whose stores 
and offices were in Norton Folgate, and we had leave 
to stay there with her — when she died, Gus and I had 
many a talk about what we ought to do. We felt we 
could not stand lodgings, furnished or unfurnished. 
My aunt’s illness and funeral had eaten up her little 
savings, and even when we sold her few possessions, all 
except the articles I indicated some time ago, there 
was still a deficit, which we paid off at so much a week 
out of our earnings.” 

“ Eeggie paid it, Mr. Vernham ; I was earning almost 
nothing then.” 

“You have earned plenty and paid plenty since,” 
said Keggie, with a courtly wave of his hand ; “ but, 
as I was remarking, we had many a talk about the best 
course to pursue. The remuneration of a lad in a 
lawyer’s office is never princely, and I may say at once 
we found that a very hard winter ; two or three times 
we were in an exceedingly tight place. It so happened 
I had to come into this square, and as I looked round 
me I saw chalked on the window of this vei*y room 
‘To let.’ Well, to cut a long story short, we took it 
the same evening, and moved in next day. That was 
how we began housekeeping, with one room, doing for 
ourselves ; now we have three rooms and a charwoman 
to tidy up, and feel, I assure you, as grand as though 
we had chambers in the Temple, and an old laundress 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


97 


to manage that our tea does not last too long, and all 
the rest of what is called respectability. We could 
afford now to take real chambers in one of the smaller 
inns, but we have got fond of Bartholomew Square and 
think it better to save our halfpence than to spend 
them. Gus is in one building society, I am in another ; 
that is not a bad way of putting money by. Mrs. 
Bring may live to grace Elder Farm for half a century 
yet, and if Gus is to go to Rome and I am to become 
a solicitor we shall have to save a lot of pennies.” 

“Are you going to Rome?” asked I^Ir. Vernham, 
turning to the young artist. 

“ Some day, perhaps,” he answered. 

“Some day, no ‘perhaps’ at all,” interposed Regi- 
nald, “ I can wait a while for my chance. I do not 
mean him to wait one day beyond the time we can see 
our way clear.” 

“ And you really intend to be a solicitor ? ” 

“ I do. It is not precisely what I should have chosen, 
but I have thought it all out, and believe the calling 
to which my taste would have inclined me would not 
do. Certainly it would not do.” 

Mr. Desborne’s clerk looked so portentously mys- 
terious as he made this statement that Mr. Vernham 
did not pursue the subject, but continued to do jus- 
tice to Miss Polly’s choice of ham. 

“ I am sure Mr. Vernham would like to know the 
calling you would have preferred, Reggie,” suggested 
Reggie’s brother. 

“ There is no reason why Mr. Vernham should not 
be told,” answered Reginald, with dignity, “ but the 
question is one which could scarcely interest him.” 

“I feel very curious,” declared the visitor, “and if 
there really be no secret ” 

“None in the world, so far as you are concerned. I 
should not take the mass of mankind into my confi- 
dence, but you, of course, are different,” and there en- 
sued another pause which Mr. Vernham waited for the 
information which did not come. 


98 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ May I tell ? ” asked Gus. 

“ Of course, though there is nothing much to tell.’* 

“Reggie would like to be a detective,” said the 
other. 

“A what? ” exclaimed Mr. Vernham, really thinking 
he could not have heard aright. 

“ A detective,” repeated Gus, speaking very distinctly. 

“If 5^ou remember,” observed Mr. Reginald Trips- 
dale, “ I said it would not do myself, though what 
little talent I possess does lie in that direction. I felt 
it would not do. No more useful individual than a 
skilled detective walks this earth. Yet there is a prej- 
udice against him. The way I put the thing in my 
own mind was this, ‘ you may be indifferent concerning 
the world’s opinion, but you have no right to pull 
down your brother who is going to rise high,’ so I gave 
up my fancy.” 

“ You really believe you have the detective gift?” 
suggested Mr. Vernham, by way of saying something. 

“ Believe ! I know I have. You remember the 
Chingford murder, which has bafffed the police for more 
than a year, and will baffle them for many a year to 
come? Well, sir, that affair is no mystery to me. I 
could lay my hand on the murderer to-night.” 

“ Then why do you not? It was a dreadful affair.” 

“There is a lady in the case,” replied Mr. Tripsdale. 
“ A lady who was very badly treated. Couldn’t add to 
her trouble — pretty creature, too.” 

“ I think you were right in deciding the profession 
of a detective would not suit you,” remarked Mr. Vern- 
ham, with a smile. 

“ Too soft-hearted, eh ? Well, perhaps so ; at any 
rate, in this case I could not give up the criminal to 
justice. It was a mere look, a glance, gave me the clew, 
which I followed till I held the whole puzzle in my 
hand, and there it is going to remain.” 

Philip Vernham’s sense of humor was about on a 
par with that possessed by Mr. Edward Besborne, other- 
wise Mr. Tripsdale’s frowning face, Mr. Tripsdale’s 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


99 


dramatic gestures, and Mr. Tripsdale’s heavily impres- 
sive manner must have moved him to shouts of laugh- 
ter. As it was he sat looking in amazement at the 
amateur Fouche, who, gratified at the impression he 
had made, continued : 

“ But even in my own profession this gift will stand 
me in good stead. I intend to make criminal practice 
my specialty. I mean to carve my name on the top- 
most branch of the legal tree, just as I mean Gussy to 
write his high in art, and, of course, this power of track- 
ing guilt home to its lair will be an enormous weapon 
in my hand when I come to cross-examine.” 

“ Of course,” agreed Mr. Vernham, overpowered. 

“ But why should I weaiy you, sir, with these fan- 
tastic visions ? Let me give you another cup of tea. 
Do you like the scent of that mignonette, or is it too 
strong for you? ” 

“ Not at all ; I wondered what the delightful perfume 
was.” 

“ Gus says we ought rather to have a jar of rose- 
leaves instead, to fciatch the furniture, but we have no 
rose-leaves and I don’t know where to get any ; be- 
sides, as Polly very truly remarks, if we begin having 
everything to match the furniture, we shall never stop 
till we are ruined. Pot pourri is very troublesome to 
make, she hears, and expensive, too.” 

“ When I have time I will make some myself,” ob- 
served Augustus. 

“ I think you might rest well content with the mign- 
onette,” ventured Mr. Vernham. 

“Particularly as Polly bought it,” added Mr. Trips- 
dale. 

“ If I am any judge of faces,” thought the visitor, 
“ that is the very reason he does not appreciate the 
perfume.” 

“ Three years ago a friend sent me a young myrtle,” 
he observed aloud. “ It has grown very much, but to 
my regret never yet bloomed ; perhaps it may this 
season.’’ 


100 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“I can tell you why it does not flower,” said the 
elder Tripsdale, eagerly. 

“ Indeed ! I should like greatly to know.” 

“ The slip was not taken when the myrtle was in 
bloom, which it ought to have been — at least so I am 
told,” was the explanation, which elicited from Regi- 
nald the pleased remark ; 

“ linows a little of everything, doesn’t he, sir? ” 

“ It seems so,” answered the visitor, and really when, 
an hour later, he rose to take his leave, he felt con- 
vinced Augustus Tripsdale knew more than a little of 
many things. 

“ He has such a lot of time for thinking,” observed 
his brother. “He is not like me, in a whirl all day 
long ; but I try to keep my eyes and ears open to pick 
up all I can, and then in the evenings we sit by the 
window in the twilight and talk. Lord ! what talks we 
do have.” 

“ You must And them very pleasant. You have a 
delightfully quiet home here and a happy one, I am 
sure.” * 

“ Yes,” returned Reginald. “ I often think that when 
Gus is President of the Royal Academy and I am 
Solicitor-General, we will look back to the old home 
and the days we spent in it with regret.” 

“ Time brings gain and time brings pain,” quoted 
Augustus, sententiously ; “ we can’t have one without 
the other.” 

“ If not intruding, will you allow me to walk a few 
yards with you, Mr. Vernham ? ” said Reginald Trips- 
dale — “just as far as the City Road. I would take it 
as a kindness, and can perhaps show j'ou a short cut.” 

They went down the staircase together, and out into 
the quiet evening. Some children were still playing 
in the square, but most of them had gone home, and 
silence was setthng down upon the place. 

“ I am going to ask you a favor, sir,” began Mr. 
Vernham’s companion, without any needless beating 
about the bush. “It is this. If you ever have occa- 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


101 


sion to come again to our office will you speak to me 
just as you would to Mr. Puckle ? I mean as though 
this evening had not been, and should Mr. Desborne 
chance to mention my name or ask whether you knew 
me — I don’t say he will, but such a thing might hap- 
pen — would you mind telling him the service you did 
my brother, but not that Gus is as he is.” 

“ Mr. Desborne does not know, then ? ” 

“ And I don’t want him to know. He is so kind he 
would not rest until he got him under some specialist, 
or maybe into some hospital, and we don’t care to be 
befriended and meddled with. Personally, I think 
philanthropists are the greatest nuisances on the face 
of the earth. They are so anxious to do good they 
can’t let people alone, and they can’t understand that 
people as a rule don’t care for good to be done them — 
all they desire is to be let alone.” 

“ And is Mr. Desborne a philanthropist ? ” 

“ He is, sir, and a deuce of a one, if I may use such 
an expression. I don’t mind, though, who he exercises 
his benevolence on so long as he keeps his hands off 
Gus. I know we are neither great nor grand, but we 
have our feelings for all that. We don’t want to be 
patronized, and we are not going to be patronized 
either. Now this is your shortest way home. Good- 
night, sir, and thank you. Good-night.” 


CHAPTEE IX. 


HOPE DEFERRED. 

It was a broiling day in the early part of August. 
Pea-picking had long been over in the market farm 
that stretched so far into West Middlesex and Surrey, 
into Kent and Essex, and along the winding Lea, Isaac 
Walton’s own river, to wooded Hertfordshire ; and the 
men and women who had gathered hundreds of thou- 
sands of bushels for that gigantic householder, London, 
and afterward stripped the gooseberry and currant 
bushes, and were even then filling great baskets with 
“ black Jacks,” egg, Orleans, and greengage plums, 
and in favorable localities, even early William pears, 
than which, if it be not a libel to say so, no fruit that 
grows can taste less like fruit. 

The last bank holiday also of the year, the very last 
universal holiday till Christmas which, as it has always 
been, is not accounted a holiday at all, was past and 
gone, the “ small fruit ” had been gathered, brought, 
into market, bought, sold again, eaten, and preserved, 
and Aileen Fermoy sat once more in her shop alone 
knitting stockings. 

If she were reviewing her season’s earnings she had 
no reason to feel dissatisfied. The debt to Mr. Plashet 
had long been repaid, and the five pounds lent by Mr. 
Desborne also. Mr. Philip had taken the amount to 
tlie firm and returned her the firm’s acknowledgment. 
So far all was well, j^et judging from the expression 
of her face, things w^ere not well with Aileen Fermoy. 

Things, on the contrary, were extremely unpleasant. 
True, trade had been and trade was as good as trade 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


103 


could be. Each day brought fresh customers, because 
a pleasant face, nice manners, and honesty cannot fail 
to draw custom in any business. She was doing, com- 
mercially, very well, very well indeed. The Field 
Prospect Koad business bade fair to become a very 
good business, but of what use is prosperity, espe- 
cially to a woman lacking that sweetness which, ac- 
cording to the Scriptures, makes even a dry morsel 
palatable ? 

She would have been more than content with the 
dryest morsel could she but have eaten it in peace. 
She did not yearn for wealth or greatness ; she was 
willing to earn her bread in the sweat of her brow, but 
what she pined for was some quiet place in which to 
partake of her modest crust. 

But the trouble was she knew that never forever 
could she hope for quiet in a house where her father’s 
widow dwelt — Mrs. Fermoy herself was always ‘‘on 
the go,” as was her many sons, and as also were her 
grandchildren. For Aileen to ask for rest in that 
home was as useless as asking for rest on the treadmill 
or an express train. Imagine a quiet horse who knows 
his business doomed to run in double harness with a 
skittish colt off the moors, and some idea may be 
formed of the life poor Aileen had to lead. 

Because, though old enough. Heaven knows, to pace 
through life soberly, Mrs. Fermoy was, to all intents 
and purposes, a young colt, and what can possibly be 
more unsatisfactory than the sight of an elderly ma- 
tron who should be staid, possessed by the insane idea 
that she is a good deal younger than any girl ? 

And the worst of Mrs. Fermoy’s delusion was that it 
proved expensive. 

No woman, young or old, can go “junketing ” about 
among her friends unless she have many sixpenny 
pieces in her pocket ; and when pecuniary matters re- 
vert, as at some time or other they are sure to do, to 
“ first princiifies,” it becomes an extremely nice ques- 
tion who is to supply the sixpences. 


104 


THtl HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


Aileen had supplied them till she grew tired and 
heartsick, when the usual troubles ensued. 

After a person has unfailingly given sixpences to 
many people who asked for them, any refusal to 
continue the supplies is considered as a breach of 
faith. 

It was so considered in this case, but Aileen re- 
mained firm. She had made up her mind during 
Whitsun week to contribute no more than a certain 
amount to the family exchequer, and she held to her 
resolve spite of many bitter reproaches and cutting 
taunts. 

Dick, having spent his unjustly acquired five pounds, 
had returned hungering and thirsting for more. Most 
unfortunately, he failed to receive the justly due chas- 
tisement promised by his elder brother, who, being 
out of work, and for the time dependent on his 
mother, was forced to listen when Mrs. Fermoy inter- 
vened on her favorite son’s behalf, called Tom a brute, 
begging him to look after his own children, and “ dar- 
ing him ” to lay his finger on any of hers. 

After this episode Dick was particularly requested 
to partake of an excellent tea, and did so, willingly 
making for his own consumption many rounds of 
toast, which he buttered hot with that liberality peo- 
ple often evince when distributing goods they have not 
had to pay for ; while Aileen maintained a dignified 
silence, and was reproached by her stepmother because 
she “ could not find a pleasant word to say to the poor 
fellow who had come back to them at last.” 

“ But who has not brought with him the five pounds 
he stole,” answered the girl. 

“ Oh ! come now, don’t let’s have any talk of that 
sort,” cried Mrs. Fermoy. “Stole’s an ugly word, 
and after all, the paltry money never went out of the 
family.” 

“ It went where I do not intend any more to cfo,” 
said Aileen. 

“Why, bless my soul, anybody to hear you talk 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 105 

might think you had lost a five hundred bank note,” 
retorted Mrs. Fermoy. 

“In its way the loss seemed as great to me as five 
hundred might to another.” 

“Lord pity you ! If you take things to heart that 
way you won’t have much of a life, I’m thinking.” 

The remark was so true, even while . so foolish, 
Aileen felt it best to hold her peace, and drank her 
tea in silence, although Dick, seizing a favorable op- 
portunity, derisively put out his tongue to its full 
length. 

Even that delicate attention did not affect her as it 
might once have done. “ Those who laugh last laugh 
best,” and there was something in the smile which re- 
warded his grimace that made Dick feel uneasy. In 
truth Aileen had decided there was to be no more pil- 
fering. A woman whose husband could not work by 
reason of an accident, and who had many small chil- 
dren to support, lived close by, and to her care, evening 
after evening, week after week, Timothy Fermoy’s 
daughter carried her money to be kept safely. 

The amazing honesty of the poor thing justified her 
trust. There were times when that half-starved and 
anxious creature did not know where or how to get a 
loaf, yet to the extremest farthing she returned Aileen’a 
deposit, and received with pathetic thankfulness the 
sixpence or shilling the girl gave her for the care. 

After a time, when compelled to absent herself, 
Aileen paid this woman to take charge of the shop, 
which arrangement proved a grievous offence to Mrs. 
Fermoy, but a great gain to Aileen, who speedily found 
out how many sixpences had been taking wings to 
themselves and fleeing away, perhaps, after that 
hoarded five pounds so unscrupulously annexed by 
Dick. 

For these reasons, and also because the season had 
been a peculiarly favorable one, Aileen, as she sat and 
knitted, might have been justified in considering her- 
self a fortunate girl, but she did not do so. 


106 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


After all, money troubles are not the worst people 
have to contend with ; on the contrary, they are a sort 
of outside trouble, bad enough, certainly, but infinitely 
small when compared with the sorrow against which 
no door can be shut, no heart closed. 

Now, Aileen had the latter to fight against, and the 
inequality of the struggle was beginning to tell. On 
that August day she did not sing, as was the case some 
months previously. 

Things were worse in August than they had been at 
Whitsuntide. Dick w^as unbearable. 

He had developed a pleasant trick of clasping the 
girl round her neck, and then pounding her with his 
knee till she often felt faint, which amusement he al- 
ternated by kneading her as he might dough on a 
feather pillow. 

He never actually struck her, and the whole perform- 
ance might have been what he called only a “bit of 
fun,” but as it always occurred after Aileen had re- 
fused to give him money, the case looked suspicious. 

But there was more the matter than Mrs. Fermoy’s 
untid}^ irregular home, than Dick’s pretty tempers, 
and Tom’s lack of work. What chanced to be really 
wrong with Aileen was that hope deferred, which we 
all know, makes the heart sick. 

A great hope had at Whitsuntide sprung into life, 
and though she tried not to think about or depend 
on it, quite unconsciously she had thought till time 
first obscured its rays and then blotted them out alto- 
gether. 

No one can hope without expecting, and this girl 
had gone on expecting hour after hour and day after 
day, till she felt nothing good could come of the mat- 
ter, that she must put the notion of ^ternal help out 
of her life if she were to do any good in it. 

“ I’ll ti'}’ and save a little and follow Mr. Plashet’s 
advice, she said, half aloud, as she laid one stocking 
aside to begin another. 

Now, Mr. Plashet’s advice had been given in this 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


107 


way : “ I’d have thought a sensible, hard-working girl 
like you would have tried to better herself before 
now.” 

“ And, indeed, sir, there’s nothing I would like more 
than to better myself if I only knew how.” 

“Well, a round in Battersea and the Borough 
Market may be all very good as a start, but you ought 
by this time to be working up a business in some of 
the new suburbs and dealing with a man down the 
road.” 

“Down what road, sir?” asked Aileen, humbly, 
anxious for information. 

“ Down any road, to be sure. Wherever there is a 
road out of London, market gardeners send their carts 
along it. You could buy just as cheap or cheaper from 
there as here, and then your goods would be left at 
your own door instead of your having to fetch them. 
I’d think that over if I were you.” 

Aileen did think it over and even mooted the notion 
to Mr. Philip, who failed to look on the project with 
enthusiasm. 

“ You see, sir,” went on the girl, a little chilled, but 
not wholly disheartened, “if any money came out of 

that advertisement ” and she paused as if expecting 

an answer. 

“It is difficult to tell, but I think money may come 
out of it.” 

“ And how much do you think, sir ? ” 

“ I really cannot conjecture.” 

“ Do you suppose it would be more than twenty, sir? 
The gentleman offered to let me have twenty.” 

“ Yes, I should imagine more than twenty.” 

“ If it mounted to fifty ” tentatively. 

“If it did, what then ? ” 

“ I’d try to get out of this. I’d find a shop, a regu- 
lar shop, I mean, somewhere. Mr. Plashet says I might 
let the upper part for enough to clear the rent, and I’d 
take Jim, and allow Mrs. Fermoy what I am giving her 
now. I know I could make out a living, and oh I I 


108 


THE HEAD OF THE FIBM. 


should think I was in heaven if only I could be let to 
earn my bread in peace.” 

Mr. Philip looked at her gravely. 

“ You must not be disappointed, Aileen, if Mr. Des- 
borne finds he has made a mistake.” 

“Indeed, sir, I am expecting nothing.” 

“ I think you are wise, and I think you would do 
well to put this idea of shop also out of your mind, else 
it may unsettle you a little.” 

That it had unsettled her a good deal there could be 
no doubt. The days passed on, the weeks, the months, 
and it was somehow a different Aileen who sat among 
her stores counting the number of her stitches. 

The heat was oppressive, spite of the open field be- 
yond, the whole neighborhood seemed pervaded with 
what has been aptly called that “poor peoply smell” 
which the sun or damp, muggy weather draws out of 
the very ground in those parts of London where the 
rank and file of its inhabitants dwell. 

An indescribable smell, one which may be felt ! Out- 
side the shed two of Mr. Thomas Connollan’s children 
were sitting on the curb with their feet in the gutter. 

Parental fondness or foolishness had purchased for 
the boy a toy trumpet, from which he was producing 
ear-splitting sounds for the delectation of Field Pros- 
pect Koad. 

The girl, who was a little younger, naturally wished 
to produce similar sounds, and 'earnestly entreated, 
“Let I blow the trumpet, do, Bertie.” 

“Na-h, ye won’t blow the trumpet, ye won’t blow the 
trumpet,” returned the other, emphasizing his words 
by digging his elbow into his sister's ribs. “ Hoo-to- 
to,” and he blew a blast of derision on the abominable 
instrument, above which rose wails of distress from 
Minnie, caused partly by pain — for Bertie’s elbows 
were sharp — and partly by disappointment. 

Aileen rose and went out. Mrs. Fermoy’s grand- 
children were brats no human being, except a preju- 
diced parent, could have really liked, but Aileen had a 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


109 


soft heart, and the poor little girl looked so miserable 
and neglected — mth great tears running down her 
dirty face — that Timothy Fermoy’s daughter was moved 
to deep compassion. 

“Why, Minnie dear, what is the matter?” she asked, 
t picking up the child, who was indeed almost too grimy 
to touch. 

“He won’t let I blow the trumpet,” sobbed Minnie. 

“ Why can’t you let your sister have it? ” said Aileen, 
looking down at Bertie. 

“ Na — h ; she sha’n’t blow the trumpet ! she sha’n’t 
blow the trumpet ! ” drawled this scion of the Connol- 
lan house. “It’s mi — em,” and he blew a blast and 
pulled a face which made Aileen long to shake him. 
Clearly Dick’s mantle had fallen on his nephew. 
“ Never mind, Minnie,” remarked Aileen, “ we will find 
something nicer for little girls to play at than blowing 
trumpets. What have you been doing, child?” she 
added suddenly ; “ you are as black as if you had been 
up the chimney.” 

“ I did that,” said Master Bertie, proudly, suspend- 
ing his musical performance in order to make the state- 
ment ; “there was a sweep’s brush standing outside 
Mrs. Dingland’s, and I ran away with it and painted 
Minnie’s frock ; didn’t I, Minnie ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered the child. 

“Very well, Bertie, we’ll hear what your father has 
to say about such doings.” 

“ Who cares for him,” retorted Bertie, “ or for you 
either. Hoo-to-toot-too,” and the wretched trumpet 
gasped out its last breath in one husky scream of 
defiance. 

“There, now you have broken it,” said the young 
imp. “ I’ll go and tell my fader, I will ; ” and full of 
this intention he ran into the family mansion where the 
eldest Mr. Connollan was, spite of the heat, sitting in 
the kitchen before a huge fire placidly smoking his pipe, 
while a pewter measure stood on the table beside him. 

On second thoughts, Bertie said nothing about the 


110 


THE HEAD OF THE FIR3f. 


trumpet then. Instead, he clambered up the paternal 
knee and exclaimed, “ Give me a drop, fader, do give 
me a drop ! ” 

“ That’s my fine fellow,” returned the proud parent ; 
“ you aren’t afraid of honest ale ; take a pull, lad ; you 
know the trick, that’s the way. Why, I’m bio wed if 
you have left as much as would drown a fly. You’ll 
soon be able to toss off your half-pint like a man ; that’ll 
be a rare bit to tell Aunty Ally.” 

Which seemed so delightful ; a joke so likely to 
amuse and gratify Aileen, that the hurley father laughed 
till tears came down into his eyes and Master Bertie 
echoed the laugh with a shrill “ he-he-he.” 

There ensued a pause — a pause of some minutes — 
during which the father was considering that before 
long his precious son would be old enough to fetch a 
pot from The Bedford Arms, close at hand, and 
wishing that desirable time had arrived ; while the son, 
who, ere so very many years had elapsed, might be 
“ depended on to give good support to the nearest and 
many other ‘ pubs,’ ” thought in a childish, cunning 
way whether he had not better fasten the guilt of break- 
ing that toy trumpet on nasty Aunt Ally at once, when 
Aileen herself entered — Aileen — yet another. 

It was the same Tom Connollan who sat smoking ; it 
was the same wretched little Bertie astride his father’s 
knee, who sat there thinking in his childish wa}^ but 
it was quite a changed Aunt Ally who, pushing open 
the kitchen door, walked straight to the fire and thrust 
a sheet of paper deep among the glowing coals. 

“ Hillo ! ” cried Mr. Thomas Connollan, “a love- 
letter. Ha, ha. Miss Ally.” 

Are there no letters but love-letters ? ” asked the 
girl, bending a perfectly colorless face over the blaze. 

“There may be, I don’t know. I never had many 
letters in my life, and I’ve always done my courting by 
word of mouth.’" 

“ If ever I have a love letter,” said Aileen, “ I do not 
think I shall put it in the fire.” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


Ill 


“ When you have one, girl, I hope it will be the 
right sort,’’ answered Mr. Conuollan, in the character 
of a stern moralist. “ Ally, could you lend me a shil- 
ling ? ” he added, as a natural afterthought. “I’ll pay 
you back honestly whenever I get a job.” 

“ I will give you a shilling,” answered Aileen, with 
an emphasis which implied she had often before lent 
money and failed to get it back. 

“ You don’t seem to give it over willingly,” said Mr. 
Connollan, with a sneer. 

Aileen did not reply, and was about to leave the 
kitchen when her steps were arrested with the words : 

“ I say. Ally ? ” 

“ Well, what is it now ? ” she asked. 

“ He has not jilted you, has he ? ” 

“Who?” 

“ The chap as wrote that letter ? ” 

“No.” 

“It looks mighty like it,” soliloquized Mrs. Fermoy’s 
first born when he found himself alone. “ Perhaps 
that is what has given her such a pain in her temper 
lately. I must ask Jim about this,” he decided, while 
Aileen went back to her shop in time to surprise Master 
Bertie, who had craftily taken advantage of the dia- 
logue between his elders to slip out and fill his small 
cap and pocket with the fruit left momentarily at his 
mercy. 

“ He’s been ’tealing your pears. Aunt Ally,” declared 
Minnie, who was herself in the act of descending from 
a raid in the window. 

“Na — h, I warn’t stealing yer pai — rs. I warn’t 
stealing yer pai — ars,” shouted Bertie, in a wild fury, 
“ but her pinny is full of them.” 

“I have only tooked one or two, and they was rot- 
ten,” whimpered the precocious young monkey, taking 
good care, however, not to display the contents of her 
apron. 

“ You are very bad children, both of you,” observed 
Aileen, with conviction the while she personally con- 


112 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


ducted them into the street. “ Eun away this minute, ; 

and don’t let me see you here ag-ain or I shall have j 

something to say you won’t like. Be off now,” and she j; 

released the small culprits, who, much relieved, wended ? 

their way to a place they wot of where such unholy ^ 

gains as stolen pears, “ grabbed ” pieces of loaf-sugar, ! 

and snatched cakes could be devoured in peace, the ? 

while “ Aunt Ally ” returned to her accustomed seat j 

and reread by the light of memory the letter she had ■ 

burnt. I 

It was from Philip Vernham, and ran almost as fol- ; 
lows : : 

“ Dear Aileen : Mr. Desborne would like to see you • 
to-morrow, as near noon as may be convenient. He 
assures me money will be coming to you. Eemember- 
ing what you said six weeks back, I ventured to ask 
him whether the amount would reach to fifty pounds, ; 

and he answered, ‘ Certainly ; to considerably more.’ 

Yours faithfully, ' 

“Philip Vernham.” 

Here was something to think about ; something 
which had taken the color out of Aileen’s cheeks, set 
her pulse fluttering, and her heart throbbing. More 
than fifty ! How much more, she wondered ; perhaps ; 
a hundred ; perhaps two ; and then that jade, Fancy, 
who always delights in carrying those who give heed 
to her far aloft, in order generally to drop them flat on 
the earth again, whispered “ five hundred.” 

“No, no,” argued Aileen’s common-sense, “such a 
thing could not be ; how could my father’s old uncle 
ever gather such a fortune together ? ” 

“ But,” persisted Fancy, jogging the girl’s memory, ; 
“your father always told 3^011 how ‘ close and near ’ he ' 
was, and how ‘ beyond clever ’ and ‘ good at a bargain.’ 

He might have put past five hundred pounds. Wh}^ 4 
even your father who was not ‘ close or near ’ died, ; 
leaving stock, good-will, carts, horses, and furniture, ' 
worth two hundred ; you hear that said many a time.” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


113 


Yes, indeed,” sighed Aileen, “and it went like snow 
off a ditch.” 

“ So you see,” said Fancy, persuasively, “ it is quite 
probably five hundred pounds is coming to you or 
more." 

“ No,” answered Aileen to the tempter, “it won’t be 
five hundred or more, but it may stretch to a hundred, 
and if it should ” — then she paused, and after a minute 
mentally added, “I must take good care of it, and I 
will ; ” which utterance might be regarded as a solemn 
promise sworn to on the New Testament, for indeed 
Aileen, though naturally generous, had found the ne- 
cessity of keeping money, which, unless kept well in 
hand, has a nasty habit of flying away and never com- 
ing back again. 

“I must not sit here idle,” thought the girl, rising 
suddenly, “ or I shall lose my head. How it is going 
round ! Will to-morrow never come that I may know ? ” 

The morrow came, a day as fine, as bright, and as 
warm as that on which Mr. Philip’s letter changed the 
aspect of life for Aileen. 

“You’ll be sure to look after the shop, Mrs. Sten- 
grove,” she said, earnestly, as though no legacy had 
been looming in the near future, and then, modestly 
attired in her Sunday’s best, she went tremblingly forth 
to learn her fate. 

When she reached Messrs. Desborne’s office it was 
Mr. Puckle who answered her timid inquiry with : 

“ Mr. Desborne is out, madam, but if you will be 
kind enough to walk upstairs Mr. Thomas Desborne is 
in and can attend to you. This way, please,” and he 
went with her up that flight of stairs Mr. Tripsdale had 
descended in such wrath. 


CHAPTEE X. 


A GREAT FORTUNE. 


With a strange sense that she was not Aileen Fer- 
moy at all, but a greatly superior person, the girl 
walked into that office which was, so to speak, Messrs. 
Desborne’s “Board-room.’’ 

Her unaccustomed feet sank deep into the Turkey 
carpet that covered the floor. Her eyes beheld with 
awe the huge, many-drawered table at which genera- 
tion after generation of Desbornes had sat. She rev- 
erently surveyed the high mahogany “ nest ” contain- 
ing tin boxes labelled with the names of honored clients, 
and never asked herself how it was possible such crude 
ways of business could still obtain, ere an inner door 
opening she found herself confronted by a small spare 
man who, after saying, Avith formal courtesy, “I am 
glad to see you. Miss Fermo}",” placed a chair for her 
on one side of the great table, and seating himself in 
one opposite, took up his parable as follows : 

“ Mj” nephew, whom you saw on the occasion of your 
previous visit, intended to be here to receive j^on. He 
must have been detained at a Board meeting he had 
to attend, however, and under the circumstances it is 
my privilege to communicate very good news to yon.” 

He paused, after the manner of a man accustomed to 
take snuff, and Aileen, thinking some answer was ex- 
pected, said, “ Thank you, sir.” 

“ My nephew, I know, meant to say he feared you 
must have imagined we Avere ver}'^ dilatory, but the 
fact is another claimant unexpected!}" appeared in 
America. His pretensions, hoAvever, are satisfactorily 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


115 


disposed of, and it is therefore now, as I said, my priv- 
ilege to inform you that you are the undoubted heiress 
to a very large fortune.” 

“ Yes, sir.” Then, as Mr. Desborne did not im- 
mediately proceed, she asked, diffidently, “ To how 
much ? ” 

“ To how much should you suppose? ” he replied. 

Aileeii’s heart beat wildly. She knew from Mr. 
Thomas Desborne’s manner the amount must exceed 
fifty pounds by a good deal, so she almost gasped out, 
marvelling at her own temerity : 

“ Is it — is it, sir — two hundred?” 

The junior partner looked at her with a sort of 
pitying wonder. 

“ When law costs have been paid — perhaps you may 
have heard lawyers, unfortunately, expect to be paid — 
there will be left for you, as nearly as possible, one hun- 
dred and thirty thousand pounds.'^ 

“ One hundred and thirty pounds, sir,” said Aileen, 
very thankful, yet, it must be confessed, somewhat 
disappointed. 

“Thousand,” supplemented Mr. Thomas Desborne. 

“What is that, sir?” 

“ Do you mean yearly income ? ” 

“ I don’t know what yearly income means, sir.” 

“ A yearly income,” explained Mr. Thomas Des- 
borne, with that compassionate forbearance a right- 
minded man always evinces toward a woman’s igno- 
rance, “means the amount, whether gained by labor or 
derived from the investment of capital, which a person 
has a reasonable light to depend upon receiving in 
the course of a twelvemonth. Your money, being re- 
markably well invested, will at the present time insure 
you something over six thousand a year, or, roughly 
speaking, more than a hundred pounds a week.” 

“But that can’t be, sir ; it’s impossible,” said Aileen, 
not meaning, of course, that the gentleman was telling 
an untruth, but only that he must be utterly mistaken. 

“Impossible or not, it is true,” was the answer. 


116 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ That I am to have a hundred pounds each week ? 
“Precisely.” 

For a moment the girl looked at him with dilated , 
eyes ; then her lips parted, her gaze faltered, her head i 
dropped, and to Mr. Desborne’s dismay, she burst into ; 
a passion of tears. ; 

Here was a dilemma. In the whole course of his . 

professional experience he had never found himself in i 
so awkward a position. ' 

He had, of course, seen women cry, but then he ! 

knew what they were crying about, and he could not j 

form the faintest idea why this girl had covered her \ 
face with her hands and was weeping convulsively. ^ 

“ What have I said ? What have I done ? ” he ex- \ 
claimed in despair, looking helplessly first at Aileen • 

and then at the carafe with a vague intention of offer- ; 

ing her some water. “This is really dreadful. Ido 
wish Edward were here.” 

As if in obedience to some incantation, at that in- 
stant the door opened and the head of the firm, look- ! 
ing pleasant and handsome as ever, came into the 
room with a light, buoyant step and a smile, which 
vanished at the sight of his uncle’s horrified face and 
the sound of Aileen’s unrestrained grief. i 

“I never was so glad to see you before,” said Mr. 
Thomas Desbome. 

“ Why, what is wrong ? What has happened ? Good , 
heavens, what is the matter?” 

“I cannot imagine, I am completely in the dark. 
When I told Miss Fermoy the amount of her fortune 
she broke down completely and has remained in the 
state you see her ever since.” ' 

The elder man spoke as though Aileen had been f 
weeping for a twelvemonth, and the younger naturally ^ 
asked, “Ever since how long has she" been like that ? ” | 

“ I don’t know, it seems a long time. Perhaps I was ; 
too abrupt, perhaps I ought to have led up to "the sub- 
ject more gradually, but who could have expected 
such an outbreak ? Can’t you say something to her ? ” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 117 

If his uncle did not know what to do, Mr. Edward 
Desborne proved equal to the occasion. 

“My dear girl,” he began, laying a persuasive hand 
on her shoulder, “do try to compose yourself. At 
least tell us what is troubling you so much ? We are 
all friends here, and will help you if we can.” 

It was strange to see the instantaneous effect his 
voice had upon her. Making a desperate effort to 
check her sobs, Aileen lifted her eyes, swimming in 
tears, red and swollen with weeping, to his sympathet- 
ic face. 

“ Oh ! sir,” she began, “ I’m ’’but there she broke 

down again, and, burying her face in her handkerchief, 
cried hysterically. 

“She will be better presently,” said Mr. Edward 
Desborne. “Never mind us, Miss Fermoy ; let your 
gi’ief, whatever its cause may be, have its way. We will 
leave her alone for a little,” he added in a low tone to 
his uncle, pointing to the inner room, which happened 
at that moment to be unoccupied, but where Mr. 
Knevitt was generally in evidence devoting all the 
powers of a very shrewd mind to legal and personal 
matters. 

“ What do you suppose is the meaning of all this? ” 
asked Mr. Thomas Desborne. . 

“ I can’t tell, but such a large windfall might well ^ 
knock anyone over.” 

“ But it need not have made her cry,” said the elder 
man in an aggTieved tone. “I never saw a woman cry 
in such a way before, and she did not say a word, but 
just began — and went on,” he added as an after- 
thought. 

Mr. Edward Desborne laughed, and turned the sub- 
ject by speaking of the meeting he had attended and 
some other matters, which whiled away, perhaps, fif- 
teen minutes, when a modest tapping at the door 
attracted his attention. 

It was Aileen, who, pale and shaken, but collected, 
stood on the threshold. 


118 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“I am ashamed of myself, sir,” she began ; “I can’t 
think how it was I came to behave so foolishly. I am 
very sorry and I hope you will excuse my taking the 
liberty of knocking, but I thought I would say I was 
going.” 

“You must not go yet, if you please. There are 
many things we ought to speak to you about. If you 
remain quiet for a little while you will be able to talk. 
You shall have this office all to yourself.” 

“ Would you not rather go upstairs. Miss Fermoy,” 
suggested Mr. Thomas Desborne. “ I think you will 
find my room more comfortable than our office. There 
are books you might like to look at.” 

“An excellent thought,” chimed in the younger 
man. “My uncle’s sanctum is delightfully quiet, and 
you really must not go with those traces of tears still 
on your cheeks.” 

“ But I am giving so much trouble,” said the girl, 
humbly. 

“ We hope you will give us much more trouble,” re- 
marked the head of the firm, with a smile. “Shall I 
take Miss Fermoy upstairs, uncle ? ” 

“ No, I will do the honor of my city house,” answered 
the old lawyer, who felt puzzled how to adapt his for- 
mal code of courtesy to the needs of this strange client. 

0 “ This is my home,” he added, after they had ascended 
the next fiight, ushering her into a room a little small- 
er and rather lower in the ceiling than that they had 
just left, “ and now you can remain quite undisturbed 
for hours if j^ou like. This is a comfortable chair, 
and when you feel inclined to read, there is, as you 
see, enough light literature to amuse you for an 
hour.” 

“ But, sir ” 

“I must leave you now,” went on Mr. Thomas Des- 
borne, unheeding this protest, “ but shall see you in 
an hour. Meantime, if you want anything, just touch 
that bell and my housekeeper will answer it,” and he 
was gone before Aileen could utter another word. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


119 


With a strange sense of peace the girl sank back 
in the easy-chair the lawyer had wheeled round for 
her. 

She was in sore need of peace and rest, and that 
seemed to her the very quietest room in the whole 
world ; not a sound of the city traffic broke its silence. 
Double windows deadened all noise. Facing north, 
its atmosphere was cool and pleasant, especially as a 
ventilator deftly introduced into the wide old-fashioned 
chimney performed its intended work to admiration. 

With tired eyes she looked around. There were 
bookcases which reminded her of the Eev. Mr. Vern- 
ham’s study in the days gone b}^ 

Poor Aileen ! There was nothing gracious or good 
or tender her eyes saw but recalled that far-away time 
when the Vernhams supplied all her soul lacked and 
heart desii’ed. 

That had been the best time of her life when she 
trotted on little errands to the “ Curacy ” and after- 
ward waited hand and foot on the “ dear lady,” Mr. 
Philip’s mother ; when Mr. Philip’s cheery “ Good- 
morning, Aileen,” sounded pleasant in her ears, and 
Mrs. Vernham’s “ Good-night, my dear child, and 
God bless you,” was sweet as the verse of a psalm. 

Then it was she acquired that soft refinement of 
speech and manner which seemed strange in one so 
situated ; then it was that by daily association with a 
gentlewoman — the most patient and loving of Chris- 
tians — she began to discriminate, and learned to know 
a gentlewoman when she saw her, even when poorly 
clothed and stripped of adventitious surroundings. 

And for this reason Mr. Thomas Desborne’s book- 
shelves, though neither so wide nor high as those at 
the ‘‘ Curacy,” recalled the memoiy of that gracious 
past before sickness and death changed Aileen’s home 
for the first time, and again sickness and death obliter- 
ated all save the memory of it. 

But the girl could not forget, could never forget. 
Across the weary years of uncongenial work and un- 


120 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


accustomed hardship tender hands seemed stretched 
forth to her in loving greeting. 

There was a subtle scent in the room, she remem- 
bered, but could not recognize, for it is not everyone 
who is familiarly acquainted with the faint yet pungent 
odor of Kussia leather. 

Everything around her, even the stillness and peace 
of that strange room, so lonely amid thousands of 
people, so quiet within hearing of the roar of London, 
seemed like something given back. 

Afterward a soothing touch stilled her overwrought 
nerves, gentle voices sounded in her ears, beautiful 
visions and pleasant thoughts came to her, for the girl 
slept. 

Quite unawares slumber overtook her and brought 
visions of a lost paradise on its wings. 

When had she known such a sleep ! 

It was indeed an experience to thank God for most 
devoutly. 

She awoke at last not to a knowledge of where she 
was, but to a consciousness that someone was moving 
about the room. 

“ I hope I have not disturbed you, miss,” said that 
“ someone,” seeing the girl stir and push back her 
hair, which movement displaced a neat little bonnet. 
“ Mr. Desborne gave me particular orders not to waken 
you, and ” 

“ Have I been to sleep — here ? ” asked Aileen, hor- 
rified. 

“ You have had a beautiful sleep, miss, and I hope 
you are all the better for it. Mr. Desborne said as 
how he thought you might like a cup of tea, so I’ve 
kept a kettle boiling all the afternoon and ” 

“ All the afternoon ! ” repeated Aileen. “ Why, what 
time is it now? ” 

“ Just upon four o’clock, miss. No, please don’t stir, 
don’t ye. I’ll fetch the tea and then you’ll feel better 
like knowing what you are doing.” 

“ Just upon four o’clock ! ” Then she must have been 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


121 


fast asleep in Mr. Desborne’s office for almost that 
number of hours. How could she have done such a 
thing? What would that gentleman think of her? 
And she pressed her cramped hands to cheeks that were 
painfully flushed and wondered how she could ever 
make excuses and apologies enough. 

For the girl was absolutely humble ; in the inner- 
most recesses of her heart there did not lurk one atom 
of self-esteem, and though Mr. Thomas Desborne had 
told her she was heiress to great wealth, that fact did 
not make her think more of Aileen Fermoy or less of 
the “ gentlemen ” through whom knowledge of her 
astounding good fortune had been conveyed. 

“ I thought, miss,” said the housekeeper, reappear- 
ing at this moment, “ it might refresh 3'ou just to 
bathe your face, so I have taken the liberty of bring- 
ing you some water,” and spreading a snowy cloth 
over one of the small tables close at hand, she placed 
upon it a basin, which she filled from a great wide- 
mouthed ewer. Could it be for her ! Aileen ! who 
had not experienced one single womanly kindness 
since death’s hand fell heavily on her mother, that all 
this fuss was made ? Could it be to Aileen Fermoy, 
who to provide bread for others had gone from door 
to door asking those as poor as herself, “Is there any- 
thing you want to-day, ma’am? ” that this strange, un- 
accustomed courtesy was shown? Yes, it could be, 
and was ; but, to her credit be it spoken, not then, or 
ever, did the girl say to herself, “It is only because I 
am rich ; they would not have been civil except for 
the money.” Could she have thought or said these 
things she would not have been the Aileen who, on 
that hot August afternoon, plunged her face into a 
basin of fair water that indeed seemed to her the 
sweetest water in which woman ever laved. 

“ Thank you — thank you ; you are so kind,” she 
said. 

The housekeeper smiled. She did not understand 
the position of this young person at all, but it was 


122 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


enough for her that Mr. Thomas Deshorne had wished 
every civility to be shown, even to the extent of that 
cup of tea for which a kettle had been kept in readi- 
ness for hours. 

That tea was quite different from the strange con- 
coction Mrs. Fermoy called by the same name, and as 
the girl drank it eagerl}^ she thought how different 
everything was from what things had been when, earlier 
in the day, she tried to eat her breakfast and could not. 

Just as she finished a slice of thin bread and butter 
Mr. Edward Desborne came in. 

“ Better ? ” he asked. “ Oh, you look better. Now, 
do you feel strong enough to discuss affairs, or would 
you rather leave matters over for a few days ? ” 

Very truthfully Aileen answered she would like to 
hear what he wished to say then and there, and ac- 
cordingly, without further preamble, he repeated what 
his uncle had before mentioned. “The money is 
safely invested,” he added, “and we think you would 
do well to leave it where it is.” 

“That must be as you think fit, sir, of course,” she 
replied. 

“ And about yourself. As I have gathered, your 
home is not a comfortable one. Will you think what 
you would like to do in the future, and tell us if we 
can help you in any way ? ” 

She did not answer him immediately ; she did not 
say she would think, because she was thinking deeply 
then. 

“If this money is really coming to me, sir ” she 

began at last. 

“ Coming ! It has come, it is yours ” 

“ I meant, if it is not a dream, sir, from which I 
must waken soon, I should not care to go on as I am. 
Though there is no creature in the world belonging to 
me to care w'hether I am well-to-do or starving,” and 
her voice shook a little, “ making a bad use of this 
fortune, or spending it wisely, my father and mother 
would have cared, and I’d be glad to try and do what 


THE HEAD OF TEE FIRM. 


123 


they would consider right — that is, if they could speak 
to me now, which they can’t.” 

“ I understand ; it is a most right and natural 
feeling.” 

“ When the other gentleman told me such a moun- 
tain of money had come to me, I thought my heart 
would break to remember there was nobody left to go 
home and tell such news to, nobody to be glad, no- 
body I could talk to, and give to, and make plans 
with. It was like having a feast spread with not a 
soul to sit down and eat but myself. That was what 
made me so foolish, and I hope you will forgive me.” 

“ Ah ! my child, you are not the only person who 
has experienced the same feeling,” answered Mr. Des- 
borne. “ There was a man once who after having lost 
parents, wife, children, won honors which made him 
the envy of his fellows. When congratulated he only 
said, ‘Too late, there is no one left to care ! ’ But life 
was behind that man. Miss Fermoy ; life is before you 
to make a great and happy thing of in the future.” 

“ Yes, I feel that in a sort of way, which is why I’d 
be thankful if I could see what would be best for me 
to do ; what would be right, I mean.” 

“ My wife is below ; will you come down and speak 
to her? I am sure this is just a juncture at which her 
advice and opinion would be invaluable to you. I can 
answer for her that she will be delighted to help you 
in any way. I have been telling her about you, and 
she is deeply interested.” 

Aileen hesitated and hung back, the color coming 
and going in her clieeks, her pretty hair tossed a little 
about her forehead, her eyes soft with the deep, tender 
look of one who has been gazing at a beautiful past 
through mists of sorrow. 

“Do come,” he urged ; “ my wife is the very person 
to put ns all right but still the girl paused, reluctant 
to be so bold. 

“ You must not look on her as a stranger,” he went 
on ; “ we are all your friends here, and a little sensible 


124 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


advice now may save a world of trouble hereafter.” 
The words were not much, but the way in which he 
spoke them proved irresistible. His cheery manner, 
his frank, pleasant voice, broke down the girl’s scru- 
ples, and saying, 

“ Very well, sir, as you think it is right,” she went 
with him into the large office where she had been told 
of her good fortune, and saw a lady who seemed to 
her the greatest lady in the ‘land. She was not beau- 
tiful but handsome, with a sort of statuesque stateli- 
ness which impressed every one who saw her. Patri- 
cian was written on her. As Aileen said afterward, 
“She is like a queen,” and certainly no queen who 
ever lived could have thought more of herself aud less 
of others than the Honorable Mrs. Desborne. 

She was standing by the table and turned as they 
entered. 

“ This is Miss Fermoy, Emily, of whom I was speak- 
ing just now,” explained her husband, and even at the 
dread moment it appeared strange to Aileen that even 
he should venture to address such a vision by her 
Christian name. 

“ Oh, indeed,” said Mrs. Desborne, with a stately in- 
clination of her head. 

“And I have brought her to you for the benefit of a 
little counsel, which I know you will give.” 

“If in my power I shall be happy, of course. What 
is it she wishes to consult me about ? ” 

“ Tell my wife exactly your difficulty ; don’t be ner- 
vous ; explain to her what you would like.” 

“Pray do,” added Mrs. Desborne. “When I know 
the advice you stand in need of I can give it so much 
better.” 

“Then, if you please, ma’am,” said Aileen, half 
frightened by her own temerity, and rushing on as 
though in terror of breaking down midway, “ I’d like 
to learn how to be a lady ” 

“Yes?” said Mrs. Desborne, with an enigmatical 
smile. 


CHAPTER XI 


MISS SIMPSON. 

With the quick instinct of her class Aileen read, 
that smile aright and knew she had made a mistake. 

“I don’t mean a lady like you, ma’am; I know I 
never could be that. There are not many who could, 
even if they were well-bom and well-bred, but just a 
plain sort of one who would not be making mistakes, 
and saying and doing wrong things ladies would never 
think of. I would try to give as little trouble and 
learn as fast as I could, if any person was so kind as 
to put me in the right way.” 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Desborne again, but this time dif- 
ferently. 

“In a common fashion I am not so bad a scholar,” 
went on the girl, eagerly. “My father was always 
anxious I should get learning, and Mrs. Vernham took 
a great deal of pains to help me with my lessons. I 
can write pretty well and cipher ; and read almost any 
word in a book, but I want more than that to know 
how to speak, and what to speak, and the way to speak 
it.” 

Words could not express the utter contempt with 
which Mrs. Desborne heard this list of Aileen’s accom- 
plishments, but she was not offended, and said “ Yes,” 
for the third time with a sort of compassionate tolera- 
tion. 

“I am convinced you would be a very apt pupil,” 
remarked Mr. Desborne, kindly. 

“ Indeed I would try liard, sir, to get on as fast as I 
could.” 


126 


TEE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“I have no doubt of that,” said Mrs. Desborne, 
“ but I fear you fail to realize the difficulties lying* be- 
fore you. At your age it is not an easy matter to un- 
learn the habits of years.” 

If anything could have accentuated the great truth 
contained in these words, that accent was given 
by I^Irs. Desborne’s tone, by Mrs. Desborne’s man- 
ner. 

Had she been a judge passing sentence of death on 
all Aileen’s aspirations she could not more pitilessly 
have conveyed her opinion that all efforts to become 
even a “ plain sort of lady ” were futile, and might as 
well be abandoned at once. 

“ But if I tried very hard, ma’am,” ventured the girl, 
daunted but not quite crushed. 

“You would succeed, I know,” said Mr. Desborne, 
not because he knew it in the least, but because it hurt 
him to see her look so disappointed. 

“ You do not quite understand, Edward,” said his 
wife, with a little asperity ; “ even if it were possible to 
discover a school where such rudiments as Miss Fer- 
moy requires to learn are included in the regular 
course — and I confess I never heard of such a school — 
she would find her position so painful as to be unen- 
durable.” 

“ I should like to go to school,” remarked Aileen. 

“You see,” observed Mrs. Desborne, turning to her 
husband, with an air of calm superiority. 

“ No, what I meant was, ma’am, that perhaps some 
lady, not very well off, would teach me what I want to 
know. If I could not learn, I should not be much 
worse off than I am.” 

“No,” said Mrs. Desborne, doubtfully. 

“I wonder whether an arrangement of that sort 
would suit Mrs. Fletcher,” observed Mr. Desborne. 

“ I do not know ; you could ask, however,” returned 
his wife, in a manner which implied her opinion that 
Mrs. Fletcher’s social standing was not much higher 
than the estimation in which she held Aileen. ; 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


127 


There ensued a pause, during the continuance of 
which no one spoke, and no one seemed to have an}'- 
thing to suggest. 

Mrs. Desborne’s rich dress swept the floor, and the 
room was filled by the scent of some delicate perfume. 
Spite of the rebuff she had received Aileen’s heart 
was filled with admiration, and she kept darting little 
glances of awe and wonder at the lady Mr. Desborno 
was so happy as to call wife. 

For all her averted eyes Mrs. Desborne caught, 
many of these glances, and felt gratified by Aileen’s 
undisguised homage and admiration. It seemed such 
a pity the girl had fallen into such a fortune ! How 
much more fitting it would have been for fortune to 
shower some of her favors into Mrs. Desborne’s lap ! 
But alas ! that could never be. 

The Harlingfords’ (her family) talents lay in the di- 
rection of spending ; certainly not of saving, and some 
one must save if money is to be accumulated. 

Suddenly a brilliant idea dispersed the gloom of Mr. 
Desborne’s reflections, and lighted up his face like a 
burst of sunshine. 

“ Did you not tell me some time ago, my dear, that 
Miss Simpson said she would once again have to take 
a situation ? ” 

“Yes ; the foolish old thing invested her money in 
something which was to double her income, with the 
result that she has now lost nearly everything.” 

“Then Miss Simpson is the very person for us.” 

“I do not think this is a thing which would suit her 
at all.” 

“ Don’t you ? I really fancy it might. She is such 
a dear lady, sitch a true gentle’womau. Yes, if Miss 
Simpson be still disengaged the difficulty is solved. I 
will write to her at once.” 

“ It might be better that I should write, if you really 
believe she ought to be wTitten to.” 

“ Which I certainly do,” he said, looking happy as a 
schoolboy who has been given a half-holiday. 


128 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ If she entertains the idea she will require very high 
terms.” 

“ Well, money is no object, is it, Miss Fermoj'? ” 

“ I suppose not, sir, but I can’t get used to feeling I 
have any.” 

“ That state of mind will soon pass away. When 
will you write, Emily ? ” 

“ If the thing has to be done we may as well get it 
over at once,” answered Mrs. Desborne in a tone of 
cold disapproval. “ I really cannot think it is a charge 
Miss Simpson would care to undertake.” 

“ Well, we can only put it to her, and she can only 
refuse. We might arrauge a meeting here. What 
day would suit you. Miss Fermoy, to come into the 
City again ? ” 

“ Any day, sir.” 

“ Any day is no day,” he answered, with a smile. 
“ Please name one. Would Saturday or Monday be 
convenient ? ” 

“Monday, sir, would do very well.” 

“ Then, Emily, ask Miss Simpson if she could come 
here on Monday about three o’clock.” 

“ Shall I name a salary ? ” 

“ Better not ; that can be settled afterward. You 
might say, however, she will find pecuniary arrange- 
ments satisfactory.” 

Mrs. Desborne sat down to write her letter, unwill- 
ingly, it is true, yet with a feeling that if the character 
of the good Samaritan must be put on the stage it w’as 
better she should play it. The “ old creature ” would 
be very grateful, and she had always found Miss Simp- 
son most useful. 

“May I go now, sir?” asked Aileen, in alow voice, so 
as not to disturb the letter-writer. “ It is getting late, 
and it is a long way to Battersea.” 

“I beg 3’our pardon. I ought not to have detained 
you ; everything can wait till Monday. You are cer- 
tain you would rather not take any money now ? ” 

“ Quite certain, sir.” 


THE HEAD OP THE FIRM. 129 

“I will see you down-stairs,” said Mr, Desborne, 
holding the door open for her to pass out. 

Aileen looked at Sli’s. Desborne, not knowing whether 
to address that lady or not. 

Just then Mrs. Desborne raised her eyes, and the 
girl took courage to speak. 

“ Good-afternoon, ma’am,” she said. 

In answer Mrs. Desborne inclined her head after 
the manner of one receiving homage, and in another 
minute Aileen, having declined Mr. Desborne’s offer 
to send for a cab, was walking toward Old Swan Pier 
like one in a dream. 

She did not feel at all less dazed when she left the 
boat at Battersea and bent her steps in the direction 
of a place she called home for want of a more suitable 
word. 

“ If ever I get any of that money,” thought Aileen, 
as she lay through the night trembling like one in a 
ague, ‘*I will go away. I must go away. I cannot 
bear this any longer. I will go away, no matter 
whether I get the money or not.” 

It was indeed a dreadful house from which the girl 
went out on the Monday following to keep her ap- 
pointment in Cloak Lane. She had been to market in 
the morning and returned to find Tom, who was laid 
up with the injuries received on crab-supper night, 
still bemoaning himself in bed with a bottle full of 
doctor’s stuff on a table by his side for company. 

As usual the children were disporting and quarrel- 
ling on the curb ; as usual Mrs. Fermoy was gossip- 
ing ; and also, as usual, the thermometer of her tem- 
per rose to blood heat when she beheld her step- 
daughter going forth “ dressed up like a lady to take 
your pleasure, as if you were one.” 

“ I am going out on business,” was the answer. 

“ Oh, indeed. It would seem as if business away 
from Battersea has much increased of late.” 

“ It has,” replied Aileen, walking off without another 
word. 


130 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


Anyone who looked more unlike a girl to whom had 
come news of a fortune than Aileen, as she stepped on 
board the steamboat, it would be difficult to conceive. 
Kather with her pale cheeks and anxious eyes she re- 
sembled a person who sees a heap of fairy gold change 
into withered leaves. She could not believe, she felt 
sure there must be some mistake. Either she had 
dreamed she had been told she was an heiress, or the 
Messrs. Desborne were mistaken and would tell her so 
that very day. 

In a vague, desponding way she thought, as the ves- 
sel glided on, of the pennies she had squandered in 
going up and down the river, led by that will-o’-the- 
wisp advertisement ; of the hours she had wasted ; of 
the hopes in which she had permitted herself to in- 
dulge ; of the waking dreams from which loud voices 
and angry words had brought her back to the realities 
of a struggling existence, uniUumined by love, un- 
cheered by kindness. 

Aileen felt very sorry, not exactly for herself per- 
haps, but for the foolish girl who had let imagination 
run away with her. Indeed she felt so sorry while re- 
calling the illusions of that golden summer which 
seemed to her now like the incidents in some pretty, 
sad story-book. She was only roused from her reverie 
by the bumping of the vessel against Old Swan Pier 
and a general exodus across the gangway. 

“By your leave, miss,” said a boatman who was 
manoeuvring a great rope close by where Aileen sat. 

“ I beg your pardon,” she answered, perceiving shn 
was in the way, and then she too followed the crowd 
ashore and bent her steps up Swan Lane into Thames 
Street. 

In the after-days, still all to come, she trod those same 
stones with an even sadder heart, but that was the 
last time she ever wended her way through the City 
feeling utterly poor and desolate. For Shawn Fer- 
moy’s wealth was fact, and the fortune to which Timo- 
thy Fermoy’s daughter had succeeded no phantom. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


131 


Her stocks and shares had not been bought with gob- 
lin gold, but in hard coin of the realm, negotiable by 
the “ Old Lady ” of Threadneedle Street. 

On that occasion it fell out quite accidentally that 
Mr. Knevitt was in the outer office when Messrs. Des- 
borne’s new client entered. 

From Mr. Puckle he had received a circumstantial 
report of Aileen’s dress and appearance on the occa- 
sion of her first visit, and with that deeply impressed 
on his mind it was natural perhaps even so astute an 
individual as the Managing Clerk should fail to recog- 
nize in a girl dressed like thousands of other working- 
girls, only a little more quietly, the “ costeress ” who 
so startled the proprietors of Cloak Lane at Whitsun- 
tide. 

Mr. Knevitt was lounging on the hearth, leaning 
back against the mantelpiece, awaiting Mr. Tripsdale’s 
return from an errand on which he had sent him, and 
reluctantly moved a step forward in order to answer 
Aileen’s modest 

“ Is Mr. Desborne in ? ” 

“ He is engaged,” was the curt answer. 

The girl paused and hesitated. Could this be the 
beginning of the end ? Then she remembered how 
she had been rebuffed more than three months pre- 
viously, and her courage revived. 

“ If you please,” she began in her pretty way, not 
adding “ sir,” however. Somehow she did not feel in- 
clined to do such honor to Mr. Knevitt. 

“ It is not of the slightest use,” he replied, brusquely, 

Mr. Desborne is particularly engaged and must not 
be disturbed. You can leave any message with me.” 

It was all very like her former experience, with a 
difference so like that Aileen could scarcely forbear 
smiling. 

“But Mr. Desborne told me to come back to-day 
about three o’clock,” she said, speaking quickly in 
order to prevent another interruption. 

Mr. Knevitt this time altogether removed his shoul- 


132 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


ders from contact ■with the chimney-piece, and assum- i 

ing a more business like attitude asked to be “ fav- i 
ored with her name/’ j 

“Fermoy,” answered the girl, on hearing which i 

magic word a great change was wrought, as if by en- j 
chantment. j 

“I must beg to apologize,” said Mr. Knevitt in some 1 
confusion; “but I did not know — I thought,” he 
added, dexterously, “ it was an older lady Mr. Besborne J 

expected. Had you been kind enough to mention | 

your name at first no mistake would have occurred. I | 

am very sorry. Perhaps you will walk into the office j 

and take a seat while I inform Mr. Desborne of your | 

arrival.” J 

Aileen accepted the chair he placed for her, and f 

looked round the room where her first interview had :• 

taken place in much better spirits. She was not de- j 

ficient in worldty wisdom, and knew very well the sud- 
den alteration in Mr. Kjievitt’s manner must have 
been produced by a belief that Aileen Fermoy was a 
girl worth being civil to. 

Not Aileen Fermoy herself, she thoroughly under- 
stood ; but Timothy Fermoy’s daughter, Shawn Fer- 
moy ’s heiress. And for this reason she went on to 
argue there must be some truth in the story about 
her wonderful fortune. Everybody could not be mis- 
taken, certainly not that determined-looking, off-hand- ' 
spoken clerk. 

Just as she anived at this conclusion she heard 
someone running quickly downstairs, and next moment .• 
Mr. Desborne opened the door. 

“Ah ! Miss Fermoy,” he exclaimed, “I am glad you ' 
have come. Miss Simpson is upstairs, and I think ^ 
everything is right. If you put on your prettiest ^ 
manners, and speak to her in your nicest way, I am j 
sure everything will be right. She is the dearest | 
creature, but at first she may strike you as a little for- 
mal. You must not mind that, however.” ' ' 

Aileen’s heart sank within her. To be told even 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


133 


laughingly that it was necessary to put on her pretti- 
est manners, and speak in her nicest way did not 
sound at all promising, but yet the first sight of Miss 
Simpson rather tended to dispel her fears. She was 
a lady, not of uncertain age, but of an age perfectly 
apparent to the most casual observer. She must have 
been a pretty young woman ; indeed she was a pretty 
old one, with her brown hair plentifully mixed with 
gray, braided smoothly on her forehead, and that deli- 
cate pink and white complexion which is now so rarely 
to be seen. She had truthful, clear, kindly, dark-blue 
eyes, and her face wore an expression in which shrewd- 
ness and simplicity were curiously mingled. For the 
rest she was of middle height, well dressed, and evi- 
dently a gentlewoman from the crown of her head to 
the hem of her garment. 

“ Allow me to introduce Miss Fermoy to you. Miss 
Simpson,” Mr. Desborne said, a little nervously. 

“ How are you, Miss Fermoy ? ” added Mr. Thomas 
Desborne, greeting the shrinking girl with hearty kind- 
ness ; “ this is Miss Simpson, whom to know is to 
esteem.” 

Miss Simpson bent her head in acknowledgment of 
the introduction and compliment. As she did so, at 
one glance she took in the girl’s whole appearance, 
which apparently proved satisfactory, for she put out 
her hand, and observing, “I hope we shall be friends,” 
won Aileen’s heart instantly. 

“Indeed, ma’am, I’d be very grateful,” she answered 
in the soft, low voice rough work and rude associations 
had not been able to make coarse. 

Then there ensued a pause, during which no one 
seemed exactly to know what to say — a pause that 
might have proved awkward had Mr. Thomas Desborne 
not come again to the rescue. 

“ You had better have a quiet talk together,” he re- 
marked, addressing Miss Simpson. “ You will come 
to an understanding much sooner without our help. 
Good-by for the present. I am so glad to have seen 


134 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


you again. For the sake of all parties concerned,” he 
went on significantly, “ I hope my nephew will be able 
to tell me an entirely satisfactory arrangement has been 
come to. Edward, I should like a word with you be- 
fore I go out. Good-afternoon, Miss Fermoy,” and 
having made his old-fashioned farewells the junior 
partner left the office, followed by the head of the 
firm. 


CHAPTER Xn. 


THE PARTNERS. 

“You heard the objection Miss Simpson made to 
undertaking this charge,” began Mr. Thomas Desborne 
when he and his nephew were seated in the lower room, 
Mr. Knevitt still keeping solitary watch and ward in 
the clerks’ office. 

“ Yes, but it is not insuperable. After all, the whole 
affair cannot but be regarded as a mere matter of 
money, of which, as Miss Fermoy has plenty, and poor 
Miss Simpson practically none, there ought not to 
prove much difficulty in arranging details so as to suit 
them both. It is really a splendid chance for our old 
friend, and her companionship would be of the great- 
est advantage to our new client.” 

“ Has it ever occurred to you, Ned, in any arrange- 
ment which is completed there are others besides 
Misses Simpson and Fermoy whose prosperity might 
be taken into account ? ” 

“No, certainly not. Whose?” Mr. Edward Des- 
borne asked this question curiously. It was evident he 
had not the faintest idea what his uncle really meant, 
though there was a certain uneasiness in his manner 
which indicated a doubt as to whether something un- 
pleasant might not be underlying the suggestion. 

Mr. Thomas Desborne did not instantly reply. He 
sat for a few moments with his head bent, tapping the 
table softly with the tips of his fingers! 

“Whose prosperity?” repeated Mr. Edward Des- 
borne, a little impatiently. 

“ Ours,” answered the elder man, lifting his head 


136 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


and looking straight into eyes that wavered and shrank 
a little under his searching gaze. “Ned, I hate going 
over all the old ground, hut I cannot help myself. Our 
prosperity ought to be taken into account. The inter- 
ests of Desborne & Son should for once be considered. 
Suppose you try to remember it is no sin for charity to 
begin at home, though I admit charity ought not to 
end there.” 

“ Why, what have I done now ? ” inquired his 
nephew. “What have I failed to do? No man ever 
worked harder over any troublesome business than I 
to bring this Fermoy complication to a satisfactory 
conclusion.” 

“ No man can work harder or better than you, Ned, 
when you choose. I only wish you would devote as 
much time and energy to other cases as you have done 
to this Fermoy affair.” 

“I fancied it was in something connected with the 
Fermoy affair you thought I had failed.” 

“ No, but I think you were going to fail.” 

“ How ? in what way ? ” 

“In letting it slip out of your fingers.” 

“ I do not understand what you mean. Pray speak 
more plainly.” 

“lam going to do so. You canT deny that for years 
our income has been decreasing.” 

“ Many incomes have been decreasing ; but let us 
say, in order to simplify matters, that ours is the only 
one. In such case, what then ? ” 

“Why, then it might be prudent to face facts ; to 
ask why it has decreased, and to take measures to pre- 
vent any further diminution in the future.” 

“We have often mentioned the causes which you 
suppose have operated against our success,” said the 
head of the firm, coldly. 

“ If we are to maintain even our present position I 
must mention again the causes which I know have re- 
duced one of the finest legal businesses in the city to 
the level of a fourth-rate one,” was the reply. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


137 


Mr. Desborne made no comments ; he had none to 
make ; facts are facts, let them be as unpleasant as 
they will, and if his uncle were determined to review 
them it was hopeless to try to prevent his doing so. 
For this reason he only moved his position a little and 
waited with an outward semblance of patience which 
ilhconc«aled the annoyance he felt. 

“The first mistake we made,” began Mr. Thomas 
Desborne, speaking not for self and nephew, but for 
many a Desborne dead and gone, snugly tucked up in 
vaults under old city churches, or, more recently, 
buried with considerable pomp and a good deal of ex- 
pense in Abney Park and Highgate Cemeteries, “was 
in starting such a ridiculous theory as that the eldest 
son of the eldest son, no matter how young, foolish, or 
inexperienced, was the only fit person to represent the 
firm. Older men, wiser men, more capable men might 
be his prime ministers, his generals, his advisers, but 
were never permitted to rule with the head, and this 
merely because the founder of our business chanced 
to be a man in a thousand, astute, clever, incorruptible 
— a worthy descendant of an old race.” 

“ My dear uncle, pardon me for a moment, but is it 
necessary to go over all this again? I quite agree with 
you that the whole arrangement was a mistake from 
the very first. It is a mistake now. Let us, as I have 
often before suggested, change places. Take the whole 
conduct of the business. I will be junior partner. 
Tell me what you wish done, and I will try to do it.” 

“ Will you, indeed, Ned ? ” asked his uncle, sadly. 
“ If so, it does not matter by what name you are called 
or what your real standing in the firm chances to be. 
Were I the head of the Desbornes, and you my son, I 
could not have your interests more at heart, or sacrifice 
my own pleasure and comfort more than is the case. 
I have not, like others of the family, taken my money, 
my time, my energies, such talents as God has seen fit 
to give me, out of the business in order to found or 
join an opposition firm. If from the first the Desbornes 


138 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


had worked with, not against, each other ; if those of 
the family who possessed special abilities had been as- 
signed posts as chiefs of different departments, what 
might we not have been now ? Why, the first firm 
of lawyers in the kingdom, instead of a decaying 
‘house.’ ” 

He paused, but no answer came. What could his 
nephew say ? What could anyone say who, recalling 
the past, contemplated the present. 

The Desbornes had not resembled the typical bun- 
dle of sticks ; rather, one by one, the younger mem- 
bers had gone out alone into the world, with the re- 
sult that where any success had been compassed the 
old name was swallowed up among those of them 
more adaptable, though not more honorable men. For 
from the first the Desbornes had prided themselves not 
merely upon their honesty, but their honor. Their 
traditions were founded upon those of that good time 
when a city merchant was a man who stood upon the 
world sans peur et sans reproche. Their businesses, 
their professions were as dear and valuable to them as 
empires are to kings. Merchants first, they stood 
high among those who helped to make London city the 
power it was and is, and when one of the family, the 
only one destined to convey the name down to modern 
times, chose for his career law instead of commerce, 
he took with him to court no less a probity than dis- 
tinguished his relations or charge. 

Small wonder. Thomas Desborne felt proud of the 
race from which he sprang. 

In the Desborne annals there was to be found no 
record of traitor, profligate, or spendthrift. 

Loyal and true might have been the family motto, 
so well did they act up to its spirit. Loyal and true 
were the men who sat facing each other on that 
August afternoon ; but one of them had a flaw of 
which no Desborne in the former time could have 
been accused. He was weak. His armor was not 
thrice plated, like that of his ancestor, the soldier 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


139 


citizen, who donned it for the sake of God, king, and 
country. 

“But it is of little use talking of what has been,’* 
resumed the elder man, at length. “ All we can do, 
all I desire to do, is to strive to keep the little which 
is left to us.” 

“ That, surely we ought to be able to manage,” said 
his nephew, brightening up at once. An optimist by 
nature, he could never endure to hear unpleasant 
things mentioned. When out of sight they were, with 
him, out of mind ; when hidden away they were, to all 
intents and purposes, non-existent. “As I gathered, 
you intended a few minutes ago to mention something 
I had neglected or overlooked in connection with Miss 
Fermoy’s matter. What is it, uncle? Do not be 
afraid of annoying me. I am a careless fellow, I 
know.” 

“ You are only careless, Ned, as regards your — or, 
rather, our — interests. When you undertake another 
man’s business you carry it through ; you have carried 
this through better than I could have done myself, and 
if we manage matters, as it seems to me we may. Miss 
Fermoy is certain to turn out a valuable client” 

“lam sure of that ; she will always be wanting our 
help in some way.” 

“She will always be wanting the help of someone,” 
amended his uncle ; “ the question is whether that help 
shall be given by us or auother.” 

“I fail quite to comprehend ” 

“I will explain. We are now close to where the 
roads part Shall Miss Fermoy continue to travel 
with us or shall we allow her to drift away, and so lose 
her business and her money ? ” 

“ What makes you ask such a question ? Of course 
she will stay with us ; we can’t afford to lose the 
management of her affairs,” 

“Precisely what I think; but consider, Ned, how 
many clients have already left us we could so iU afford 
to lose.” 


140 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“Is that my fault ? ” 

“ I am afraid so. I see men come here every day 
who want subscriptions, or your name, or your time, 
or your assistance in some direction ; but what I do 
not see is that they bring or send any profitable busi- 
ness to us. On the other hand, I do notice that when 
any profitable business is attached to charitable proj- 
ects, other firms reap the advantage. Men praise 
you, Ned, but it is possible to pay too high for 
praise.” 

“I never did anything for the sake of praise,” said 
Mr. Desborne, indignantly. “ Uncle, do me justice. 
In anything I have tried to do for my fellow-creatures 
no thought of praise or profit has influenced me. With 
no consent of mine is my name connected with any 
good work. It is enough for me to see the work is 
done, to know the poor have been helped, the hungry 
fed, the sorrowful comforted.” 

“ I believe you,” answered Mr. Thomas Desborne ; 
“but the result is as disastrous as though you had 
sought to be known as a philanthropist. While good 
w'orks are going on, the poor helped, the hungry fed, 
the sorrowful comforted, we are being ruined. People 
say, and say rightly, that a man cannot do two things 
well. It is impossible for him to cure all the ills flesh 
is heir to and attend to his clients at one and the 
same time. City folks are cautious folks, and though 
they like you, they prefer to take their business to a 
lawyer who has time to devote to it, and not to one 
whose name appears more frequently in the reports of 
charitable societies and in the columns of fashionable 
papers than in matters connected with the law courts 
and his own profession.” 

Edward Desborne flushed scarlet. “ You hit very 
hard,” he said. 

“ If I saw a man about to fall over a precipice I 
should not wait to put on gloves before clutching 
him.” 

“ And do you think I am falling over a precipice ? ” 


TRE REAR OE TRE FIRM. 


141 


*‘I tliink it behooves you to look where you are 
going.” 

They sat for a while without speaking a word. 
Then Edward Desborue remarked : 

“I knew you did not mean to vex me, uncle, but it 
would be idle to deny your accusation holds a cruel 
sting. Let that pass, however. This unhappy con- 
versation had its origin in something connected with 
the Eermoy legacy ; tell me where I am going wrong 
in that affair, and I will endeavor to go right. God 
knows I have striven to do my best for the girl, but as 
you put matters my best is very bad indeed.” 

“ Your best is as good as good can be, Ned, and if I 
have wounded you by speaking plainly, have I not 
wounded myself also ? Are you not as dear to me as 
a son ? Have I a thought or wish into which you do 
not enter ? I want to see the old firm resuming the 
position it once held, I want to hear Desborne & Son 
spoken of as Desborne & Son were spoken of ever in 
your grandfather’s time, as it might have been now 
if 

“If I had been a different man,” finished the head 
of the firm, with bitter emphasis. 

“ That is not what I was going to say,” replied his 
uncle. “All I will add now, however, is this — for 
the sake of your boy, of your wife, of yourself, and for 
my sake also, consider whether there is not far too 
much truth in the opinion I have expressed, harshly, 
if you choose to think so.” 

“ There generally is some truth in any opinion, pro- 
vided it be disagreeable enough,” answered Mr. Des- 
borue, with a forced smile. 

“It was not your better self which spoke then, 
Ned,” returned his uncle. 

“ It was not, it was not,” acknowledged the other, 
eagerly. “Forgive my petulance, but you did hit so 
hard. I will think over what you said. Is there ever 
anything you say to which I fail to give respectful 
consideration, but I can’t talk more about that. Tell 


142 


TBE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


me what you have in your mind about Miss Fermoy, 
because the root of this discussion is to be found 
somewhere in connection with that matter.” 

“ Yes, because I do not want you to act as the Good 
Samaritan there to our disadvantage. Why, benefiting 
her, it is surely not impossible to benefit ourselves. 
This is a critical moment in our acquaintance with the 
girl, let us make the most of it.” 

“ I am quite willing. What do you think ought to 
be done ? ” 

“You heard Miss Simpson say that she had no fit- 
ting place in which to receive a pupil of any sort, more 
especially so exceptional a pupil as she supposed Miss 
Fermoy would be.” 

“I did, and suggested, as you may remember, 
that she should hire apartments suitable for the pur- 
pose.” 

“But Miss Simpson did not seem to take kindly to 
the idea.” 

“ No ; she inclined to rent a house, and I think I 
can understand why. A house, however, can surely 
be found. It may take a little time to find one 
certainly, still ” 

“ There is a house ; there are two houses ready to 
your hand,” interrupted Mr. Thomas Desborne. 

“Where?” 

“ One, belonging to Edward Desborne, in York 
Terrace, and one, belonging likewise to Edward Des- 
borne, called Ashwater. Edward Desborne cannot live 
in two houses at once, therefore, when he is at Ash- 
water, Miss Simpson and her charge might well 
occupy his town residence, and when he returned to 
London Miss Simpson and Miss Fermoy could run 
down to Teddington and take possession, for the 
winter, of Ashwater, usually left to the tender and ex- 
pensive mercies of a caretaker.” 

Edward Desborne heard this programme with sur- 
prise, not to say dismay. 

“ I scarcely fancy that is an arrangement which Miss 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 143 

Simpson would care for,” he said, after a momentary 
pause. 

“ Then I differ from you ; it is one I imagine she 
would like very much. At all events, you can but 
mention what I have proposed. If my suggestion fails 
to recommend itself to her, of course there is an end 
of the matter.” 

“And if she approved, I am quite certain my wife 
would not,” added Mi*. Desborne, with conviction. 

“Why?” 

“ It is difficult to explain, but I am satisfied she 
would object.” 

“ If the idea be properly put before her, I cannot 
see why she should. It is not as though anyone were 
proposing that Miss Fermoy should reside with her ; 
quite the contrary. By the plan I indicate Miss Simp- 
son and her pupil will simply take the place of a care- 
taker. They will have the advantage of living in good, 
well-furnished houses, for which, if you like, you can 
charge a fair rent, and you will have the satisfaction 
of knowing you are making matters extremely easy 
for a client who is, I feel sure, a very good girl, and 
who will, there can be httle doubt, prove a grateful 
one.” 

The head of the firm sat silent for a short time. 
That his thoughts were not pleasant was evident from 
the expression of his face ; nevertheless, at length he 
said : 

“ There is a good deal in your notion ; it did not 
recommend itself to me at first, but — yes — there is 
much in its favor.” 

“ Then you will place it in as good a light as possi- 
ble before Miss Simpson ? ” 

Mr. Edward Desborne hesitated. 

“Do you not think I ought first to speak to my 
wife ? ” 

“ Oh ! dear, no ; whatever is done ought to be done 
this afternoon. If matters are arranged comfortably I 
will tell Mrs. Desborne, should you wish me to do so.” 


lU 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


‘‘ No, I should not wish that ; I will explain every- 
thing to her myself.” 

“ Very well, then, I depend upon you, and — Ned — 
you are not vexed with me now, are you ? ” 

“ No, only with myself. What a fool I have been ! ” 

“ AVere I to say that, how angry you would be.” 

“ It is true, nevertheless,” and the speaker walked out 
of the office and upstairs as if determined not to give 
himself time to change his mind. 

“Well, am I too soon?” he asked Miss Simpson, 
with his pleasant smile,. which took in Aileen as w'ell. 

“ Not at all ; we have finished our talk. I think I 
know Miss Fermoy’s wishes.” 

“And you really are going to set up house to- 
gether ? ” he said, turning to his fortunate client. 

“So Miss Simpson says,” answered the girl, as though 
she had no say at all in the matter. 

“ When I can find a suitable residence,” added Miss 
Simpson by way of rider. 

“Do you know what my uncle suggests? ” said Mr. 
Desborne in the assured tone of one who felt certain 
whatever his uncle suggested would be listened to with 
respectful attention. 

“ No ; pray tell me.” 

“ That you should live at York Terrace and Ashwa- 
ter alternately ; that is, when we are in town you might 
reside at Ash water, and when we are at Ash water you 
might return to town.” 

“ Oh ! Mr. Desborne, do you really mean what you 
say ? ” _ 

“The idea is not disagreeable, then?” 

“ Disagreeable ! delightful, the very thing ; the plan 
is perfect. Who but Mr. Thomas Desborne would have 
thought of it?” 

“I should not, at all events,” returned the head of 
the firm with frank truthfulness. “You will like 
York Terrace I know, and if you find Ash water too 
dull, why we can make some different arrangement.” 

“ Dear Ashwater, I shall never feel dull there. I love 


THE HEAD OP THE FIRM. 


145 


it !” exclaimed Miss Simpson, enthusiastically; but you, 
Miss Fermoy, perhaps such a home might seem too 
quiet I did not think of that when I spoke.” 

“ You need not be afraid, ma’am,” replied Aileen, 
tranquilly. Was not “ quiet ” what her soul and heart 
and body longed for ? Could any place be too quiet 
for a girl who had lived in such a pandemonium as 
the double-fronted house in Field Prospect Road ? 

“It only seems too good to be true,” she murmured 
to herself softly, but Miss Simpson and Mr. Desborne 
caught the words and exchanged sympathetic glances. 

“ What do you think of her ? ” asked the lawyer, as 
he conducted Miss Simpson to a cab half an hour later, 
Aileen lagging, in her modest way, behind. 

“ She has a lovely face,” was the answer. 

“ Which is but the index to a lovelv nature,” he re- 
joined with confidence. 



CHAPTEK Xm. 


MISS SIMPSON DOES NOT APPROVE. 

There are larger and finer houses around Kegent’s 
Park than those in York Terrace, but any prettier it 
would be hard to find. 

One of the smaller residences in that favored spot 
had been bought by Mr. Desborne’s father, who pre- 
sented it to his son as a wedding gift. 

Never were there such people for buying leases as 
the Desbornes. It is a way some families have — a sur- 
vival from a period when purchasing a lease was a good 
thing — a period antecedent to that when leaseholds 
became a bad investment, and bidding for them could 
only be accounted a half-hearted compromise between 
economy and extravagance. 

The Desbornes bought leases of their offices and 
houses, as w^ell as of various tenements, large and small, 
in many parts of London, which purchases, though 
very well at the time, when concluded had a nasty 
knack of growing less valuable year by year and of at 
last ceasing to be valuable altogether. 

Because, though half a century since it was possible 
to renew an old lease on not disadvantageous terms, 
things in the metropolis have been moving so fast for 
twenty years and more that renewals and reasonable 
prices can no longer be obtained. Nevertheless tradi- 
tion dies hard, and the Desbornes, though in the main 
sensible people and thrifty, went on buying leases and 
entering into covenants just as their ancestors had 
done in the old days departed, when time was like 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 147 

eternity, so slow seemed its progress, so few changes 
did the years bring with them. 

Of all their investments the little house in York Ter- 
race, bought by a loving father for his only son, was 
perhaps the most sensible. The ground rent was low, 
and the repairs, though a constant drain, did not cost 
so much annually as they might have amounted to in 
a mansion replete with all modern conveniences, in- 
cluding an unsound roof, leaky pipes, and an unsafe 
boiler, with many other advantages of a similar nature. 

It was an ideal residence for a man of moderate 
means and refined tastes, large enough, yet not too 
large, conveniently planned, accessible from the city, 
yet close to the West End, within a stone’s throw of 
the Marylebone Koad, while overlooking waving trees 
and an expanse of soft, green turf. 

Mr. Edward Desborne loved his London house very 
much, though for his wife’s sake he would have liked 
a house, if even in a close street, nearer Piccadilly. 
AU Mrs. Desborne’s friends lived and had their being 
on the other side of Oxford Street, and it was perhaps 
natural she should resent her banishment to such a 
wild waste as Regent’s Park. She did not care for 
nature, having in her girlhood had far too much of 
hedgerows and muddy roads, waving cornfields where 
never a human being was visible save reapers, and 
trees which shaded neither fine ladies nor eligible gen- 
tlemen. 

Happily for nature, however, all women are not con- 
stituted alike, and who may tell what joy that beauti- 
ful park brought to Aileen Fermoy, who could look 
out over it whenever she pleased, when the morning 
dew still sparkled in the sun, in the silent noontide, in 
the evening when twilight fell softly, wrapping the 
landscape in its mystic mantle, and at night when the 
moon, rising behind a bank of clouds, sailed slowly 
over the tree-tops and behind that oasis in the wilder- 
ness of bricks and mortar in silvery floods of unreal 
light. 


148 


TEE HEAD OF TEE FIRM. 


It was the sweetest introduction imaginable to her 
new life. Unreal as her fortune seemed, the fair home 
to which she had been so suddenly translated, a home 
which no rude voices penetrated, where no wild tem- 
pers strove for mastery, where peace reigned supreme, • 
where also, Aileen felt, though she did not know how ; 
to express her thought, people might well grow selfish, ; 
because there rose no need for self-denial and self-con- • 
trol, where things were, as she often said to herself 
with an uneasy twinge of conscience, “ too easy, far too j 
easy.” : 

Though a month had passed since that day in the a 
city when all things w’ere arranged satisfactorily, when j 
she returned home with the assured conviction her 
fairy godfather, Shawn Fermoy, had really sent out of [ 
his grave a chariot and horses to take her aw’ay forever * 
from the buying and selling of green stuff, from the ^ 
care of providing daily bread for a large family, from 
the dreadful surroundings of her hard, exhausting life, 
she had not yet grown accustomed to the change in her 
fortunes, and she seemed unable to shake off an un- 
comfortable conviction that in some w^ay she had acted 
wrongly in severing herself entirely from the Battersea 
household. 

“Yet what could I do, Mr. Philip?” she said, and 
he answered, “ Nothing.” 

“It would be impossible to have them coming . 
here.” 

“ Quite.” 

“ And they would be none the better if I went back 
and stayed with them.” i 

“ They w^ould not.” 

Though had she known all about the Fermoy-Con- , 
nollan establishment, Miss Simpson would, even more r 
emphatically than Mr. Vernham, have indorsed all the , 
girl’s observations, Aileen was careful to say nothing of ^ 
what was in her mind to that lady. " ^ 

She could not speak about her past life to one igno- | 
rant of its details. Now she was away from them it | 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


149 


seemed to her impossible to talk about Tom, and Peter, 
and Dick, and Mrs. Fermoy, and the two little children, 
or even Jim the industrious — the boy she had told 
Mr. Desborne could “ hollo ” so/loud. 

It was only to “ Mr. Philip she could talk freely, 
and she had seen him but once since her hurried exit 
from Field Prospect Koad, which took place after an 
uncomfortable evening with her stepmother, who said 
the girl did nothing, gave nothing, felt nothing, that 
the entire burden of the house fell on her, Mrs. Fer- 
moy’s shoulders, and that she was sick and tired of the 
whole thing. 

“ And so am I,” answered Aileen, leaving the kitchen 
as she spoke. 

When alone, however, an uncomfortable conviction 
came over her that she had not tried to avert this quar- 
rel — that, in fact, she felt rather glad of the pretext the 
quarrel gave her for a final rupture. 

For days she had been waiting for such an excuse. 
She knew she meant and ought to take advantage of 
it, but the whole thing seemed terrible to her. 

She stood thinking for a minute, then stole down- 
stairs and re-entered the kitchen where Mrs. Fermoy 
was putting the chairs in their proper places with a 
series of bangs, which might well have surprised any 
respectably-constituted article of furniture. 

“ So you’re back again. What do you want now ? ” 

“ I want to say I am sorry for speaking so sharply a 
while ago.” 

“And well you may be. If your poor father — but 
then he was as determined and self-willed as you are.” 

“Ah ! please do not talk about him. All I wanted 
to say is that I am sorry for answering you short. 
Good-night.” 

“ It was hardly worth coming down again if so little 
could ease your mind.” 

“Good-night,” repeated Aileen. 

“Good-night, though I have never any but a bad 
one. 


150 


TEE BEAD OE TEE FIRM. 


“ Will you sliake hands with me ? ” 

Just in a strange manner. “Yes, I’ll shake hands. 
No one ever could say of me I was a rancorous w’oman, 
or a w^oman who bore malice. If I had been, people 
would not be so keen to live with me as they are.” 

“ Good-night,” said Aileen for the third time. 

“ If you are going to bed, go, and don’t stand there 
hindering me any longer.” 

Next morning, before a single other member of the 
family was astir, Aileen arose softly, packed up her 
best attire, which, with a few other effects, she carried 
then to Mrs. Stengrove’s house ; then she returned 
home for the last time, lit a fire, spread the breakfast- 
cloth, laid everything ready, and waited till Mrs. Fer- 
moy should make her appearance, which, after the lapse 
of some time, she did, commencing instantly to find 
fault with every arrangement Aileen had busied her- 
self with. 

“ There is a letter for you,” said the girl. 

“ Leave it beside the tray. I’ll look at it presently. 

I have no time to be bothered with anything till I’ve 
cooked the Jbacon. Get me some rashers — nice ones, 
mind.” 

“You see where I have laid the letter,” remarked the 
girl. 

“I see; do you think lam blind? For goodness 
gracious’ sake, don’t pester me with your nonsense. 
Fetch those rashers.” 

But Aileen never fetched those rashers. Instead, 
when she left the house, she went to Mrs. Stengrove’s, 
changed her dress, and was over Battersea Bridge and 
hurrying to Sloane Square before Mrs. Fermoy had 
raised a hue and cry after her. 

No bacon was cooked that morning, but in lieu of 
the usual appetizing frizzle the family heard shrieked 
at the top of Mrs. Fermoy’s voice, “ Ally’s gone ! Al- 
ly’s gone ! Come down some of you this minute and 
fetch her back. She’s sold the business, too, as if it 
was hers to sell, and left me only thirty pounds, the ' 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


151 


price she paid for it, and the stock and good-will 
worth sixty now if it is worth a penny.” 

“ It was the only thing I could do, Mr. Desborne,” 
Aileen told that gentleman, “ and they can’t starve 
while the thirty pounds last.” 

“ And then,” suggested the lawyer. 

“I’ll give IVIrs. Fermoy a weekly allowance.” 

“Shall we arrange that matter for you?” 

“ I think not, sir, thank you. I had better manage 
to send it to her myself.” 

“Very well ; you know what you are about, I sup- 
pose.” 

“ Yes, I have lived with my father’s widow for many 
a long year.” 

A fortnight passed away, however, before Aileen 
could think of any possible mode in which she might 
convey knowledge of her liberal intentions to Mrs. 
Fermoy, together with tangible proof that she intended 
to carry them out. 

Mr. Vernham was taken into confidence, but though 
he offered to turn money messenger himself that course 
failed to find favor in Aileen’s eyes. 

“ Mrs. Fermoy would never give you a day’s peace, 
sir, till she got to know where I am, who I am with, 
and how I get what I give her, and then I’d never know 
a day’s ease or comfort unless I put the Atlantic be- 
tween me and her. No, it ought to be a stranger, 
someone "who would pay the money and never give her 
any satisfaction or take any heed of what she says. If 
you could think of anybody. I’d be very grateful.” 

Mr. Vernham, not having been accustomed to the 
study of such an impracticable personage as Mrs. Fer- 
moy, could not immediately bethink him of a stranger, 
wise, trustworthy, and ready to turn a deaf ear alike 
to questions and abuse ; indeed, he could not think of 
anyone, capable or not, to whom might be intrusted the 
delicate task of cariying a w'eekly revenue to Field 
Prospect Hoad. 

At last the brilliant idea struck him that Mr. Regi- 


152 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


nald Tripsdale contained in his so remarkable individ- 
uality all the qualities likely to insure success in such 
a mission, and forthwith he sought that young clerk at 
a place and hour where he was accustomed to partake 
of some modest refreshment. 

‘‘ AVill you do me a favor?” inquired Mr. Vernham. 

“Will I? won’t I? Just say the word, that’s all ; to 
the ends of the earth, sir, if needful.” 

“ I shall not ask you to go so far, not out of London, 
indeed. It is a friend of mine I want you to help. 
May I bring her to your lodgings to-morrow evening, 
and then we can talk matters over ? ” 

It is needless to record Mr. Tripsdale’s answer. Or- 
ders were given when he reached home that the sec- 
ond floor in Bartholomew Square should be swept and 
garnished in honor of the promised visit ; while Philip 
Vernham wrote to Aileen asking her to meet him at 
Moorgate Street Station, about six on the following 
afternoon, because “I have thought of a person likely 
to answer your purpose, and consider it better he 
• should receive his instructions direct from yourself.” 

The next day at five o’clock tea Aileen greatly sur- 
prised Miss Simpson by declining a second cup on the 
ground that she was going out. 

“ Going out where, my dear?” asked Miss Simpson, 
suavely. 

“Into the city.” 

“ Why did you not tell me sooner ? Still, it will not 
take me five minutes to get on my bonnet.” 

“ Thank you, ma’am.” Aileen was painfully learning 
to drop what her instructress called that superfluous 
little word, but in times of hurry and nervousness re- 
verted to the old habit. “ Thank you, ma’am ; I must 
go alone.” 

“You cannot go alone.” 

The girl looked amazed as she asked, “ Why not ? ” 

“Because it would not be proper.” 

“ Not proper ! ” repeated Aileen, confounded. 

“ No, very improper. I could not think of permit- 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


153 


ting any young person in my charge to go into the 
city alone.” 

"‘But I have been into the city numbers of times 
alone. The very day I first saw you I went there by 
myself.” 

“ Your position was different then.” 

“ I was the same, though, except that I could not 
believe I had any fortune.” 

“Exactly, but now when everything is changed you 
must endeavor to conform to the circumstances in 
which you are placed.” 

“ But I must go into the city.” 

“ May I ask why ? ” 

“Because I have business to attend to.” 

“ At this late hour ? ” 

“ Yes, ma’am.” 

Miss Simpson looked at the girl for a moment, and 
the girl looked back steadily at her. There was no 
shifting or shadow of wrong in the expression of those 
honest eyes, yet the elder woman did not feel satisfied. 

“Do you remember,” she began, “that when we 
were alone together in Cloak Lane, I asked you a ques- 
tion, and before you could answer it, however, IMr. 
Desborne came in and the opportunity for reply was 
lost?” 

“ Yes, but I did not understand what you meant. 
The words were foreign, I thought.” 

“ I inadvertently used a French phrase which I will 
now translate into English. Have you any ‘affair,’ 
any tenderness ? ” and Miss Simpson blushed. 

For a second Aileen looked puzzled, then she said, 
without any blush at all : 

“ I suppose you mean, ma’am, have I a young man ? ” 

“Yes, if that is the way you phrase the matter,” an- 
swered Miss Simpson, shocked, as indeed she was 
shocked fifty times a day by her pupil’s mode of 
speech. 

“ I never had one,” said the girl. “ I never have said 
more to a man than just pass the time of day, except 


154 : 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


in the way of buying and selling. There has always 
been something else to think about than young 
men.” 

“Then you are not going into the city to meet a 
young man ? ” 

“ Indeed I am not. I am going into the city to meet 
a gentleman, Mr. Philip Vernham,” j 

“ What!” exclaimed Miss Simpson, appalled. ■ 

“ I have been in great trouble about my stepmother,” ’ 
went on Aileen, hurriedly, “ and Mr. Philip says he has ' 
found someone who can do what I want for her, and ■ 
will take me to see him, and indeed I must be going 
or I’ll be late.” - 

“ Stop a moment ! ” exclaimed Miss Simpson in a faint, ; 
troubled voice. “ No pupil of mine has ever been 
compromised, not the faintest breath has ever sullied 
the reputation of any young lady I have had the hap- 
piness to train up in the ways of virtue and decorum, 

and it would break my heart, yes, it would, if ” at 

which point the poor lady, overwhelmed with the pict- 
ure fancy painted, broke down and put her handker- 
chief to her eyes. 

“And do you really think, ma’am,” cried Aileen, 

“ I’d be the one to bring discredit on you ? No, never 
be afraid of that. If I can’t just at once learn the 
things you try so hard to teach me, I learnt long ago 
to behave as a decent girl ought. I kept myself to 
myself when I w'as poor, and I am not going to bring 
shame on anybody now. Don’t distress yourself about 
me. There is not a lady in the land sets more store I 
by her good name than Aileen Fermoy, and if I didn’t 
I would keep straight because you have been so more 
than kind to me, and Mr. Desborne, too. Don’t fret, ' 
ma’am, don’t,” and before Miss Simpson could enter » 
upon a protest the girl had seized her hand and kissed J 
it twice, thrice, then adding, “ I can’t stop now or Mr. | 
Philip will be wondering what has happened to me,” | 
she ran upstairs, slipped on a hat and jacket, and was f 
half way to Portland Road Station before Miss Simpson # j 

% ; 

f 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


155 


could realize that her hitherto docile pupil had proved 
insubordinate. 

Philip Vernham was waiting at Moorgate Street. 
“You are in good time,” he said, greeting Aileen with 
a different expression from any his face had ever worn 
previously when addressing Timothy Fermoy’s daugh- 
ter. 

“I could not get away as early as I wanted or I’d 
have been here sooner,” she answered with the simple 
deference of old. “ Miss Simpson was against letting 
me come at all unless she came too ; and if you please, 
Mr. Philip, is the place where the gentleman you wrote 
about living far away ? ” 

“Not very far ; just beyond Old Street.” 

“ Might we not call a hansom ; I want to get home 
soon ; Miss Simpson will be vexed if I am out long.” 

“We can take a cab, presently, back to York Ter- 
race if you like, but we will walk a little way now, for 
I want to speak to you, Aileen.” 

He spoke her name with a strange thrill of feeling ; 
indeed he was moved to his very souL 

“I did not answer your letter,” he went on; ‘‘be- 
cause, in fact, I could not ” 

“There was no need for an answer,” she interrupted 
quickly ; “it is yours any time you like to take it.” 

“ And supposing the impossible,” he returned. “ Sup- 
' posing for one moment that I did take it, what should 
, you think of me ? ” 

“Just what I have always thought of you, Mr. 
Philip.” 

i “ And what is that ? ” 

“ That there is not your equal in the world.” 

Mr. Vernham did not reply. What reply, indeed, was 
i it possible for him to make ? He had drawn the an- 
I' swer, which was given in the most perfect good faith, 
on himself by his ill-judged question, and he could no 
'i more refute or deprecate it than he could have refuted 
or deprecated the girl’s statement had she chosen to 
[ say “ I think very little of you.” 

!! 


156 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“It is quite impossible for me to express what I 
felt when I read your letter/’ he said instead. 

“ I wish it had been better written.” 

“ No writing could have better shown the warm, 
generous heart that prompted your words. My poor, 
dear girl, did you really think I would take your 
money ? ” 

“ I did not know, sir ; I could not tell. I was afraid 
you would consider I was taking a liberty in being 
bold enough to ask such a thing, and then again I felt 
sure you would be too proud to accept anything from 
anyone like me.” 

“Like you! Good Heavens!” Philip Veniham’s 
conscience smote him. Was it, then, his pride, on 
which he feigned himself, struck this unseltish girl’s 
beautiful mind. He could not take her money, yet in 
what way was he to make her understand how utterly 
mistaken in her views he considered her to be ? 

“ From you, Aileen, I could accept what it would be 
impossible for me to receive from anyone else.” 

“ And you would be only taking your right, Mr. 
Philip, because what could I ever do to prove my grati- 
tude fo you and yours ?” 

“I have never been able to do for you what I 
should like ; but if you fancy I have ever tried to help 
you I wish you would promise me one thing in re- 
turn.” 

“ What is that, sir ? ” 

“ Never to give any money away without first telling 
me.” 

“But that spoils all the pleasure of giving,” she an- 
swered, after a moment’s pause ; “ and, besides, how 
could I make such a promise, because help is not of 
much use unless we can help there and then, and I 
never liked to talk about what little I did. Many a 
time in Battersea when I gave a few halfpence to some 
poor creature trying hard to fight trouble with all the 
world against her, I thought how thankful I felt not to 
have to account to anybody for what I spent, and 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


157 


thougli you would not be hard, still how could I ask 
anybody in want to wait till I had time to write to you 
and get back an answer ? ” 

Philip Vernham laughed ; the girl was so serious and 
the proposition suggested so absurd. “ I did not mean 
any money literally,” he said, “ only large sums. A 
person so recklessly liberal as to propose to give away 
half your fortune — you offered that to me, you know — 
ought to be restrained in some way from ruining her- 
self.” 

“ If you would only take it all, Mr. Philip, and just 
give me enough to live on and keep I^Irs. Fermoy Pd 
be thankful” 

“Are you weary of wealth already, Aileen?” 

“ I am, sir ; weary of thinking about it, and what 
I ought to do. Now, you would know what to do. You 
would be able to spend money as your mother could 
have done. Somebody would be the better, somebody 
would be the happier ; but as things are, the money is 
just there doing no good at all” 

“ Somebody will be the better, somebody will be the 
happier. Your money will do much good ere long,” 
was the answer. “ I am the better and happier for 
your letter ; indeed, I am inchned to think ill of my 
fellows. I will take it out and read the kind words 
you wrote, from your veiy heart, I am sure.” 

“ Indeed I did, and if only I had known how to put 
them together better ; but, oh ! sir, don’t refuse because 
of that — you’ll take half the money, any way, if not the 
whole. If you would, I’d go home proud as a queen 
to-night.” 

“ I cannot, child ; you must keep your fortune ; it 
was not left you to fling about here and there and 
everywhere. Some day you will find a use for all your 
money, and, meanwhile, I want you to promise not to 
give any larger sum — £1,000, for example — without 
telling me. Kemember, Aileen, how poor and unhappy 
you were last Whit-Monday. Believe me, if you do not 
take care of your wealth, great as it is, it will soon 


I 


158 THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 

vanish and leave you poorer than you ever were. 
Promise me what I ask.” 

“ Very well, sir, I promise, but you won’t refuse to 
take the half of that money ? ” 

“ I must.” 

“ Some day, perhaps, you will think better of it,” 
she persisted, wistfully. 

“Never.” 

“If your mother were living, Mr. Philip ” 

“She would tell me to be a man, and make money 
for myself.” 

“ Do you believe she would, sir, really ? ” 

“I know she would.” 

“Then I won’t say anything more about it.” 

“ But I shall never forget, Aileen.” 

“ Forget what, Mr. Philip ? ” 

“ That you offered me over sixty thousand pounds in 
perfect good faith.” 

“ I could not have offered it any other way,” she 
replied. 

They had crossed Chiswell Street and got into Bun-S 
hill Bow by this time, which was all strange ground to 1 
Aileen, and she trod it timorousl}^ feeling that every 1 
step was taking her further and further away from* 
Moor gate Station. fl 

“We are almost close to the place now,” said her! 
companion, reading her thoughts. H 

“I am glad, because I do not like to make Miss^ 
Simpson uneasy. She is so kind and patient ; if I E 
were a lady born, she could not take more pains withl 
me than she does.” s 

Mr. Vernham did not speak, but it struck him many J 
ladies born lacked the spirit of a gentlewoman like thisj 
girl possessed. w 

“Is Mrs. Desborne often at York Terrace?” h^ 

asked, after a pause. H 

“ No, she is in Dorsetshire visiting some of her reS 
lations. When she comes back we shall be going to^ 
Teddington. Mr. Thomas Desborne has called twic^ 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


159 


to see Miss Simpson ; he is a very pleasant gentle- 
man.” 

“ Yes, I like him greatly,” said Philip Vernham. “Is 
not this a quiet square to be close to such a busy 
thoroughfare ? ” 

“ Does your friend live here ? ” asked Aileen, as they 
stopped at the door of the house where Mr. Tripsdale 
resided. 

“Yes, two young fellows, brothers, of whom he is 
the younger, have made a home here ; one of them 
draws most beautifully. He is slightly deformed, poor 
fellow.” 

“ What a pity ! ” exclaimed Aileen, softly, and they 
said no more as they went up the staircase, till they 
reached a landing where a door stood partially open. 

Mr. Vernham knocked, but no “ Come in ” rang out 
by way of answer. Instead they heard a halting step, 
and Augustus Tripsdale threw the door Avide and 
w^elcomed his visitors with a smile that lighted up his 
whole face. 

“I am expecting Keggie every minute,” he said, 
ushering them into the room which had so taken Philip 
Vernham’s fancy. “Would not the lady like to sit 
near the window? the lookout, we think, is pleas- 
ant.” 

“It is pleasant,” answered Aileen for herself, feeling 
quite at home with the soft-voiced, quiet lad. “And 
what lovely flowers you have,” she added, bending over 
a stand filled with heliotropes, verbenas, picotees, and 
delicate ferns. “How do you make them thrive so 
well here ? ” 

“ With care,” he answered, at Avhich reply they both 
laughed and were friends. 

At that moment the younger brother entered. “ This 
is Mr. Eeginald Tripsdale,” said Mr. Vernham by way 
of introduction, “ who, I am sure, will be not merely 
able but willing to execute the commission you desire 
to intrust to him.” 

Augustus Tripsdale, who was looking at his brother. 


160 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


wondered to see the deep flush which spread over that 
young man’s face as he bowed profoundly. 

It was some seconds before he recovered his self- 
possession, and his voice shook when he answered ; 
“ Any commission with which Miss Fermoy honors me 
shall receive my very best attention.” 

Aileen had colored also, but as she had a trick of 
blushing Mr. Vernham did not feel surprised at that, 
more particularly when she said : “ I think I have seen 
Mr. Tripsdale before.” 

“On the occasion of your first visit to Cloak Lane,” 
finished Mr, Tripsdale with an almost beseeching glance 
which the girl understood perfectly. 

“Bid I tell you,” she inquired, turning to Mr. Vern- 
ham, “ that Mr. Besborne kindly asked if he should pay 
this money for me and I refused?” 

“ You did, and I failed to connect the two things till 
this moment,” was the answ^er. “I do not think, how- 
ever, that Mr. Besborne’s ofler need prevent you avail- 
ing yourself of Mr. Tripsdale’s service.” 

“ Which I place at your command entirely in an un- 
official capacity, Miss Fermoy,” said Mr. Tripsdale, 
drawing a few steps nearer. “ Anything and every- 
thing I can do for you will be done not as Messrs. 
Besborne’s clerk, but as a humble and grateful friend, 
if he permit me to say so, of Mr. Philip Vernham.” 

Still Aileen hesitated. She had that in her mind 
concerning Messrs. Besborne’s clerk no one in the 
room save Mr. Eeginald Tripsdale and herself wot of. 

“You. may trust me. Miss Fermoy,” he said, in a 
tone of earnest entreaty. 

“ You will find no better agent, I am sure,” added 
Philip Vernham, in a low tone. 

Aileen’ s eyes w^andered round the room, then she 
looked at the two brothers, then she looked steadily at 
Eeginald Tripsdale, and made up her mind. 

“Very well,” she said, “if this young gentleman 
will be kind enough to do what I want.” 

Augustus Tripsdale placed a chair for her beside the 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


161 


window, then moved behind his screen, followed by 
Philip Vernham. 

Eeginald Tripsdale stood waiting Aileen’s pleasure, 

“Thank you,” he said, almost under his breath. 

“I could talk better if you would sit down,” she re- 
marked. 

“ Thank you,” he said again, and drew forward a 
stool. 

It did not take her long to explain exactly what she 
wanted ; the fact that he knew her position, past and 
present, rendered her task all the easier ; moreover, he 
was a youth who comprehended almost with a hint, 
and he had heard enough about the Messrs. Desborne’s 
strange client to grasp at once where, as he mentally 
phrased the difficulty, “hidden rocks rendered the 
channel dangerous.” 

For a minute or two after she ceased speaking he 
kept quiet, writing memoranda in his pocketbook. 

“I tliink I have set down all the points,” he said at 
last ; “ but perhaps it would be better for me to read 
them over, then you can judge.” 

Memo. — “ Mrs. Fermoy, Field Prospect Koad, Bat* 
tersea, W. The Bedford to be allowed £260 per an- 
num, to be paid weekly. Kent of house also to be paid. 
To be told nothing whatever concerning Mr. Shawn 
Fermoy’s money ; to be left in complete ignorance as 
regards Miss Fermoy’s fortune and movements. R. 
T. to answer no questions which may be put to him, 
and to ascertain as soon as possible how the young 
Connollans’ inclinations tend, and if there be any way 
in which they may be benefited and their future wel- 
fare secured. R. T. to take receipts from M’s. Fermoy 
in acknowledgment of the weekly amounts paid by him 
and to forward same to Miss Fermoy.” 

To convey any idea of the gusto with which R. T. 
read out these notes would be quite impossible. His 
tone so impressed Aileen that she felt as though she 
had embarked on a very serious voyage, with Mr. Trips- 
dale at the wheel. 


162 


TEE BEAD OF TEE FIRM. 


Have I omitted any item ? ” he asked, closing his 
pocketbook, but keeping one finger in to mark the 
place. 

“ No, I think not.” 

“ Does anything further occur to you ? ” 

Nothing.” 

“ If during the course of the next few days any fresh 
idea should cross your mind, perhaps you will be so 
good as to communicate with me.” 

“ Thank you ; I will, indeed, if you tell me the name 
of the place.” 

“This is Bartholomew Square, but you had bet- 
ter take one of my brother’s business cards. If you 
just substitute Beginald for Augustus it will be all 
right.” 

The business was concluded and Aileen rose to go. 

“lam greatly obliged to you, Mr. Tripsdale,” she 
said, with that pretty shyness which had delighted Mr. 
Desborne. 

“ And I am very grateful to you. Miss Fermoy,” re- 
turned the young fellow, looking at her with a sort of 
mute appeal which she could not help answering with 
a smile. “I will do my best for you.” 

“ I am sure of that,” she replied. “ Do you think I 
could get a cab near here ? ” 

“Of course ; I will fetch one instantly.” 

“ Have you arranged matters to your satisfaction ? ” 
asked Mr. Vernham, who, having heard Aileen moving, 
came forward at this moment. “ No, don’t go for a 
cab, please,” he added, addressing Mr. Desborne’s 
clerk, “ we are sure to see one in Old Street. Good- 
evening.” And he was turning away without any more 
ceremonious leave-taking when Aileen, who had not 
herself been so long promoted from the ranks as to 
have learned to look down on others, gave her hand 
to the pale lame lad by whom Dame Nature had dealt 
so scurvily and said “Good-by” with such sweet 
womanly comprehension of the trouble he must have 
passed through that his heart went out to her with a 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


163 


strange yearning that made him tremble as he held her 
fingers in a nervous grasp. 

“I wonder if I shall ever see you again,” he said, all 
in a hurry. It is timid, retiring people who are ever 
making unconventional and impulsive speeches. 

“ I do not know, but I hope we shall,” she answered, 
gently, and went downstairs accompanied by Mr. Vern- 
ham and Keginald Tripsdale. 

Having shaken hands with the one brother she felt 
she could not do less than go through the same cere- 
mony with the other, whose mode of receiving the 
civility was, however, less appreciative. 

“Good-evening, madam,” he said, in a good profes- 
sional tone of voice ; “ I hope ere long to inform you of 
the result of my visit to Battersea. Good-evening, Mr. 
Vernham.” And he went upstairs again with a thought- 
ful, not to say dignified, expression of countenance. 

“ Who is that girl, Beggie?” asked his brother. 

“That,” replied Mr. Beginald Tripsdale, flinging 
himself into a chair, “is our heiress’’ 

“ Our what ? ” inquired Augustus, 

“ Our heiress — sought for, advertised for, fought for, 
won —heiress to about six thousand a year.” 

“ Are you serious ? ” 

“Never was more so. Never was so dumfounded 
as when I saw her here with Mr. Vernham, though I 
knew he and she had some sort of acquaintance.” 

Augustus Tripsdale remained silent for a minute or 
two thinking, or, as his brother put the matter, “turn- 
ing things over.” 

“ Is it a case ? ” he said at last. 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Will he marry her? ” 

“Mr. Vernham? Oh! Lord, no I She’s not the 
sort at all ; no money can ever make her his equal.” 

“It is a pity.” 

“Why?” 

“Because she would make him such a wife. I wish 
she would sit to me.” 


164 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“Is there any other unlikely thing you feel inclined 
to wish when you are about it ? ” 

“Yes : that Mr. Vernham would marry her.” 

“ He will when the sky falls, not before. Now, let 
us have some tea.” 

While the coachman was driving along Old Street 
and threading the labyrinth of streets that seem to any 
but the initiated a mere maddening maze lying be- 
tween Goswell Eoad and King’s Cross, and Aileen in 
her uneasiness was thinking every yard a mile, and 
asking her companion whether it was very late, Mr. 
Thomas Desborne, having alighted from an omnibus 
at the Mother Eedcap, and walked thence through 
Gloucester Gate, across Regent’s Park, had knocked 
at the door of his nephew’s house, inquired for Miss 
Simpson, and been ushered into that lady’s presence. 

Aileen need not have felt so anxious to get back. 
In the society of such a visitor, Miss Simpson could 
very well dispense with her presence. Ten years be- 
fore, Mr. Edward Desbome’s former governess had 
dreamed a fairy tale in which Mr. Thomas Desborne 
acted the part of an elderly prince, and she that of a 
middle-aged Cinderella. Her heart was young if her 
face were not. No one had ever asked her love or 
wanted her heart, and, therefore, she gave both un- 
asked and unsolicited ' to the “best and most chival- 
rous man she ever met” over and over again. She 
thought he meant to propose to her over and over 
again ; he did not propose, held back, as she believed, 
by a natural shyness, which, though adding in one 
way to his attractions, was sometimes productive of 
inconvenient results. Whatever the reason, he never 
did ask her, but remained solitaiy in his city fastness, 
while she, after Mr. Desborne’s death, retired from 
active service and lived in a poor way, though always 
careful to keep up appearances, on a little money she 
had saved, and a little more which the then head of 
the Desborne firm left her. 

She never, however, severed her connection with the 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


165 


nobility and others, occasionally visiting Lady This and 
Mrs. Somebody Else, ostensibly as a friend, but really 
in a half professional capacity, and so she not merely 
retained her position as “ dear Miss Simpson, so use- 
ful and thoroughly to be depended upon,” but added 
something yearly to her income and managed to live 
for weeks and years at a time without having to re- 
duce the trifling balance at her bankers’. 

In such a life the years shp away without leaving 
any traces behind them, and to the simple lady, when 
she found herself over again with her kind friends, the 
Desbornes, it seemed that she had but yesterday laid 
down the old threads of intimacy which she took up 
again as easily and naturally as a woman picks up her 
knitting and goes on where she left it off. 

This was the third visit in three weeks Mr. Thomas 
Desborne had paid her, and as she had never before 
received even one visit from him, she might be excused 
for imagining there was “ something in it.” 

She had not anticipated such a pleasure, and was 
glad an unfailing sense of fitness and unremitting at- 
tention to les convenances had induced her to “ bathe 
her eyes and arrange her cap, and sit quietly down to 
her work after Aileen’s abrupt departure.” 

When Mr. Thomas Desborne entered the library 
he found her composed and ladylike as usual, “the 
very picture of an ideal governess, companion, and 
friend.” 

“ I ought to apologize for intruding at so late an 
hour,” said Mr. Desborne, “but I felt that I wanted 
a breath of fresh air, so made York Terrace at once a 
means and an object.” 

“ I am sure if York Terrace could speak it would say 
it is always delighted to see you.” 

“ That is a very kind remark, which I appreciate. I 
like to come here. By the way, I wonder why my 
nephew does not make this his home during Mrs. 
Desborne’s absence.” 

“ He is so fond of the country,” said Miss Simpson, 


166 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


smoothing out her crewel work and looking at the 
colors pensively. 

“Is he ? Since when ? ” 

“ Since always, I suppose,” answered Miss Simpson. 

“I was not aware. It never occurred to me that he 
was fond of the country.” 

“ Why, then, did he buy Ashwater ? ” 

“ Indeed, you may well ask, though you need not 
wonder. He bought it to please his wife.” 

“But his wife does not like the country.” 

“ Not in the abstract, perhaps, but she likes it when 
town goes there for the summer.” 

“ Ah ! ” said the lady. 

“And when all that is settled, do you like the coun- 
try, Miss Simpson ? ” 

“ I like everywhere,” she answered, with an engag- 
ing smile. “I can make myself happy anywhere.” 

“But how do you think it will be in the short win- 
ter days, in the long winter evenings? Won’t you feel 
very dull and lonely during gloomy November and 
dark December ? 

“ I think not ; a mind which has resources within 
itself ought never to feel dull and lonely.” 

“ And what about Miss Fermoy ? ” 

“ I cannot answer for Miss Fermoy.” 

“ I see you are alone. Is she out ? ” . 

“ She is out.” 

“ That is unusual, is it not ? ” 

“Very.” 

“Would it be indiscreet to ask where she has 
gone ? ” inquired the lawyer, struck by the peculiarity 
of Miss Simpson’s tone. 

“ Certainly not ; I am glad for you to do so. She 
has gone into the city.” 

“ Into the city ! ” he repeated. “ What can she want 
in the city ? ” 

“She wants,” said Miss Simpson, speaking very 
slowly and impressively, “ to meet Mr. Vernham.” 

Mr. Thomas Desborne did not whistle, but his lips 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 167 

emitted a sibilant sound as nearly resembling that 
vulgarity as a respectable solicitor might adventure 
upon. 

“ Are you not mistaken ? ” he asked. 

“ No ; she told me so herself.” 

“ It is very odd.” 

“ And most improper. I wished to accompany her, 
but she said she must go alone. It is not my fault, 
Mr. Desborne ; I urged and entreated of her to refrain 
from committing such an act of indecorum. I prayed 
her not to persist in compromising herself and dis- 
crediting me, but all to no purpose. She answered me 
as usual, sweetly, but stubbornly refused to sacrifice 
her own will. I never before imagined she had so 
strong a will, and she is not a child whom one can 
coerce. She is a grown-up woman, and I do not know 
what course to take with her.” 

“ Has she been in the habit of going out alone ? ” 

“ Never, even for a breath of fresh air in the park. 
You told me, if you remember, she had been accus- 
tomed to a good deal of exercise, and if she had ex- 
pressed a wish for a short walk I should have attached 
no consequence to such a desire ; I mean at a time 
when the park is most empty.” 

“ And I really do not think you need attach any im- 
portance to this departure. She has known Mr. Vern- 
ham all her life.” 

‘‘ But still he is a young man, Mr. Desborne,” re- 
turned Miss Simpson, as though summing up evei^- 
thing which could be said in a created being's dis- 
praise. 

“ Yes, he is a young man,” admitted the lawyer. 

Miss Simpson made no reply. She felt she had 
gone as far as retiring modesty permitted, and did not 
deem it fit to outrage propriety by pursuing the con- 
versation further. 

“ He is a young man,” repeated Mr. Desborne, hap- 
pily ignorant of all that was passing through Miss 
Simpson’s mind, “ but a quite exceptional young man 


168 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


— a young man so exceptional and so unlikely to make 
an appointment with any girl unless he had some good 
and sufficient reason for making it that I think there 
must be more in this matter than meets the eye. She 
did not by chance say why he had asked her to meet 
him?” 

“ I gathered from her disjointed remarks that they 
were going to see a vague person who had business re- 
lations with her stepmother, but of course I took that 
statement merely for what it was worth.” 

“ You might safely have taken that statement as 
w'orth a good deal, my dear lady,” replied Mr. Des- 
borne. “ The poor girl has had many troubles, which 
Mr. Vernham knows more about than any of us.” 

“ Indeed ! So far as I am concerned, I may say I 
know nothing about them ; Miss Fermoy is very reti- 
cent.” 

“ Do you not think many persons are reticent when 
they have nothing pleasant to talk about ? ” 

“ It seems more natural to me that a girl should 
confide her troubles, if she have any, to a lady friend, 
and seek for sympathy from one of her own sex.” 

“ Miss Fermoy probably has not yet realized what a 
friend you could be,” said Mr. Desborne, adroitly com- 
plimentary. 

“ Besides,” went on Miss Simpson, acknowledging 
the implied flattery with a gracious inclination of her 
head, “ I should have imagined anyone possessed of 
such a fortune would have found many pleasant things 
to talk about.” 

“ She does not speak of her fortune, then ?” 

“ She does not.” 

“ Or build any air- castles, or look forward to a brill- 
iant future ? ” 

“If she encourages any dreams of that kind it is in 
silence.” 

“ Dear me ! ” exclaimed Mr. Desborne. 

“ Till this evening I have had no occasion to find the 
slightest fault with Miss Fermoy. She has been docile, 


TEE HEAD OP THE FIRM. 


1G9 


diligent, and respectful, but all is reserved — I may, in- 
deed, say close — beyond all my former experience.” 

“ That is very sad. Let us hope that under the gen- 
ial influence of your companionship she may become 
more communicative.” 

“It seems to me unlikely,” said Miss Simpson, 
sadly. 

“ And as a pupil what is your opinion of her ? ” 
asked the lawyer, not unnaturally anxious to change 
the conversation. 

“ That she is dull,” answered the lady. 

“How you do surprise me. I should have thought 
she was quick.” 

“Not at all, quite the contrary. If you only saw 
the pains she takes to learn, the efforts she makes to 
understand, and the poor results of all her pains 
and endeavors, I am sure you would be sorry for the 
girl.” 

“I am sure I should — indeed I am ; but only con- 
sider, Miss Simpson, how short a time you have had 
her in hand.” 

“ Long enough to judge of her abilities,” said the 
lady, oracularly. “ So far I have not been able to teach 
her the names of the kings and queens of England 
down to Elizabeth, and I am greatly afraid she wiU 
never learn even her notes.” 

Mr. Desborne sat as if struck dumb by this state- 
ment, but he really was wondering whether he re- 
membered the names of the kings and queens of 
England, and if he could tell them off-hand. On the 
whole he felt rather glad Miss Simpson did not wish 
to put him through his paces. 

At last he thought he would adventure on one ques- 
tion : 

“Is not Miss Fermoy rather too old to learn her 
notes?” 

“ If she wishes to study music I fail to see how she 
is to compass her. desires unless she just master that 
slight difficulty,” was Miss Simpson’s ironical reply. 


170 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ And does she wish to study music ? ” Mr. Desborne 
inquired, innocently. 

“ I understand she wished to learn everything gen- 
erally included in a young lady’s education.” 

“ Poor soul ! ” muttered Mr. Desborne. 

Miss Simpson did not reply. She was wondering 
what her visitor meant, and had no wish to commit 
herself till she could arrive at some understanding of 
his enigmatical exclamation. 

Was it in pity for Miss Fermoy’s ignorance or as- 
tonishment at the mass of knowledge she must attack 
and demolish before anyone would call her “finished,” 
that he spoke those two words. Why should he be 
sorry for the girl ? If the fields of learning were broad 
and long, they are also full of flowers which anyone 
anxious to be instructed might weave into lovely gar- 
lands, and what could be more delightful than to wan- 
der across those fair meads, led by the accomplished 
hand of such a skilful guide as Miss Simpson knew 
herself to be ? 

“I agree with you,” began the lady at last, when she 
felt the pause was becoming awkward, “ that it must 
be rather a trial for Miss Fermoy.” 

“Here she is,” interrupted Mr. Desborne, ruthlessly, 
as a timid knock and ring echoed through the silent 
house. “ I feel very glad she has returned while I am 
still here. How do you do, Miss Fermoy?” he added, 
advancing to meet the girl, who, after answering his 
inquiry, turned to Miss Simpson and said apologeti- 
cally “ I am afraid I have been a long time gone, but 
I could not get back any sooner, though we made as 
much haste as we could.” 

“Why did not Mr. Vernham come in?” asked Mr. 
Desborne. 

“ He had to go to the Edgeware Road,” answered 
Aileen, simply. “ I did not want him to come back 
from the city with me, but he said it was all on his 
way, and indeed Miss Simpson we did not lose a mo- 
ment.” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


171 


“ I am quite willing to believe that/’ returned the 
lady addressed with frigid civility, “ but I hope, Miss 
Fermoy, you will never think it necessary to make such 
an appointment again.” 

“I do not suppose such an appointment ever will be 
necessary again,” replied Aileen, with a coldness iced 
to match. Miss Simpson cast an appealing glance 
toward Mr. Desborne, who returned it with a meaning 
smile and a slight gesture which the lady understood 
to imply he wished to speak to his client in private. 

‘‘You will take a little supper, I trust,” she said, 
rising as she spoke and leaving the room on hosiDitable 
cares intent, once more exchanging glances with Mr. 
Desborne as she went. 

The moment the door closed behind her the lawyer 
crossed the room to where Aileen was standing. 

“Why could you not trust us to arrange matters 
about your stepmother ? ” he asked, kindly. 

She lifted her eyes to his and dropped them again, 
speaking no word. 

“ Would you rather not tell me ?” 

“You do not know Mrs. Fermoy,” she answered. 
“ She is a good woman in many ways. I do not want 
to say anything against her, but she is. boisterous, and 
if you wrote to her she would go to your office and 
make a disturbance, and never rest till she got to know 
where I am, and when once she did know I might as 
well give up, for she would never rest till she had me 
back, or the money at any rate. And it would do her 
no good, it would go like water. I have seen how it 
has been with little, and it would be just the same with 
much. I want her to be comfortable, but I do want 
to have some peace myself, and not to have any of them 
making a disturbance at your office. I am sorry to 
have vexed Miss Simpson, but I could not help going, 
after Mr. Philip had taken so much trouble for me.” 

“I will make it all right with Miss Simpson,” said 
Mr. Desborne, “ but pardon my asking — believe me 
the question is not dictated by mere curiosity — whether 


172 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


you are certain you have found a person qualified to 
transact this little business better than we could have 
done.” 

“ I think so, sir, for the reason I told you just now. 
Mr. Philip says he is to be trusted, and I feel sure he 
will be able to talk to Mrs. Fermoy as she needs to be 
talked to, and let nothing out in answer to all her 
questions.” 

“ Do you intend to make your stepmother a very 
liberal allowance ? Forgive, me once again, if I seem 
intrusively inquisitive.” 

“ Indeed, you are only too kind, sir. No, I am 
only going to give her what I think enough — five 
pounds a week — it is not because I grudge her more, 
but I am afraid that much even will do them harm 
rather than good.” 

“It certainly is a large sum for a woman in her 
position.” 

“Not larger than she can spend, and ten times that 
would not satisfy her if she knew I had it.” 

“ I see.” 

“And I hope, sir, you don’t think I did wrong in 
going into the city this afternoon.” 

“ No, no, child ; I am only vexed to think we cannot 
take all the trouble off your hands.” 

“ There are some troubles no one can take off our 
hands,” answered Aileen, with that wise shrewdness 
which seemed to Mr. Desborne so incompatible with 
stupidity, having delivered herself of which truth she 
left the room just as Miss Simpson re-entered it. 

“Everything is quite clear to me,” said Mr. Des- 
borne, “ and you need not be at all uneasy about your 
charge. Will you take my word for the fact that she is 
a thoroughly good girl, possibly not a clever one, but 
good ? ” 

“ I like her so much I am only too glad to take your 
word ; but you cannot wonder at my feeling somewhat 
anxious.” 

“ I do not wonder at all. Of course you have had 


TBE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


173 


to deal with young ladies in quite a different rank, 
and what would have been most unusual and improper 
had they so conducted themselves strikes j^ou as un- 
usual and improper in this daughter of the people. It 
does not seem so to her, but still she will fall into your 
views because she likes you. I am quite persuaded 
the way to influence Miss Fermoy is through her heart 
and not her head. . A word to the wise suffices, and 
you are very wise. Miss Simpson.” 

“ I trust I may justify your good opinion,” said the 
lady, coloring with pleasure. 

“ I am confident- you will, and begin by showing 
Miss Fermoy she has not hopelessly offended you. I 
promised to win your forgiveness. Prove that I was 
not too bold.” 

“ Too bold, Mr. Desborne ; you, who are ” 

“ As a rule, I know I am rather diffident,” he finished, 
seeing Miss Simpson was at a loss how to complete 
her sentence 

That evening the lawyer made himself, as the lady 
afterward observed, “ truly delightful.” He talked, if 
not of Shakespeare and the musical glasses, of subjects 
as lofty and refined ; over supper he ranged from gay 
to grave, from lively to severe, with a charming ease 
which, if Miss Simpson’s heart had not been already 
won, must have captured it effectually. He spoke of 
the latest novel and the coming opera, of royalty and 
the agricultural laborer, of foreign parts and English 
slums, all with that familiarity which a man who 
knows a little of everything can affect at a moment’s 
notice. 

‘‘It is quite like old times,” thought Miss Simpson. 

“By the bye,” said Mr. Desborne, suddenly, “how 
do you spend Sunday afternoon ? ” 

“We generally remain in-doors,” answered the 
lady. “We go to Marylebone Church or Trinity or 
All Souls in the morning, and read quietly after din- 
ner ; for we always dine early, as you are aware, Mr. 
Desborne. ” 


174 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ The reason I ask is that I thought I might induce 
you to come into the city and have a cup of tea with 
me. We could then attend evening service in one of 
the old churches, and with your permission I should 
have the pleasure of seeing you home.” 

“That would be delightful,” said Aileen, at whom 
he looked as he finished his programme. 

“ Yes, charming — if ” faltered Miss Simpson. 

“ Now, please do not throw any obstacle in the way,” 
entreated Mr. Desborne, rising. “ I shall expect you 
next Sunday not later than four o’clock, and as much , 
earlier as you care to come. Good-night, Miss Simp- 
son. I always enjoy an evening here. Good-night, 
Miss Fermoy. I think I shall introduce you first to 
St. Swithin’s Church, and show you before you go in 
the very stone on which Jack Cade laid his hand and 
said, ‘ Now I am King of London.’ ” 

“ And who was Jack Cade ? ” asked the girl. 

“ Miss Simpson will tell you, or, better still, she will 
give you a book in which you can read all about him 
for yourself. Farewell till Sunday.” 

“ That will be nice,” exclaimed Aileen, as the door 
banged behind him. 

“ Yes,” agreed Miss Simpson, with a little shy hesi- 
tation. “The only doubt I have is whether I am old 
enough to go myself and take you to a bachelor’s 
house.” 

“ Oh ! I am sure you are,” answered Aileen, with 
disconcerting frankness ; then, seeing she had made a 
mistake, she hastily added, “ It is not as if Mr. Des- 
borne were a stranger, you know.” 

“ That makes a difference, of course,” agreed Miss 
Simpson. 

“ It makes all the difference,” declared Aileen, and 
Miss Simpson believed only because she wished to be- 
lieve, and allowed herself to be propitiated simply for 
the reason that she wished to imagine the girl sup- 
posed her to be ten or twenty years younger than was 
actually the case. ; 


CHAPTER XIV. 


MR. TRIPSDALE CREATES A SENSATION. 

On the Saturday following Aileen’s visit to the city 
Messrs. Desborne’s youngest clerk, clad in that light 
suit which had so roused Mr. Knevitt’s ire, took boat 
from Old Swan Pier to Battersea. He had, as he re- 
marked to his brother, “ made a dash for it.” A man, 
even if possessed of Mr. Reginald Tripsdale’s activity, 
cannot hurry to St. Bartholomew’s Square, “ snatch a 
mouthful of dinner,” “change his clothes,” give “just 
a passing look in the mirror to see that everything is 
right,” and rush back to Thames Street in half a min- 
ute. Accordingly the afternoon was Avell on before he 
reached Old Swan Pier, and in September the days 
grow short. 

Fortunately, a boat had just arrived, and, getting 
across the gangway with the first contingent of “ up 
river ” passengers, he was able to select a seat where he 
could assume a languid attitude, and watch the hu- 
mors of the crowd — never far to seek in such an 
assemblage. 

There was the pretty girl, with a far-off expression 
in her eyes, who sat looking at Mr. Tripsdale without 
seeing him, thinking of her dying mother or drunken 
father or home the brokers’ men had taken possession 
of. There was the widow in deep weeds still mourn- 
ing for her dead husband, and there was another who 
had well nigh forgotten she ever married one ; there 
were numbers of working-men returning home with a 
week’s wages in their pockets, and other men who 
could not get work and were taking home nothing but 


176 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


sad hearts ; there was the conversational individual, 
who would have chatted to a deaf mute rather than not 
chat at all ; and the self-contained man who resented 
every attempt to make him talk, and answered the most 
ordinary question with a morose monosyllable ; there 
was the polite person who begged pardon on the 
slightest provocation, and the boy who shoved his way 
through the passengers regardless of their prejudices 
and ribs ; there were “ the toffs ” coming from no one 
knew where, and going to no one but themselves 
could tell where ; and the buxom lady in a black 
apron and carrying a huge bundle who told them the 
“lowest coster in the walk w'ould be ashamed if he 
could not behave himself better than he did ; ” there 
was the usual musician with a wheezy accordion and a 
cracked voice — in a \vord, all sorts, if not all condi- 
tions, of men were to be seen on the deck of that 
steamer, men and women who had so many things to 
think about interesting “ to themselves ” that they felt 
no inclination to think of anything else, and w'omen 
who saw each day of their lives so many strange sights 
and odd people that even Mr. Tripsdale’s hat and Mr. 
Tripsdale’s summer suit did not excite their curiosity 
or arouse their admiration in the least. For all the 
attention anyone paid to his remarkable appearance he 
might indeed as well have had on his old office coat, 
shining about the elbows ; nevertheless, a man such as 
he dressed not merely to awe his fellows, but to please 
himself, and that he was pleased no one who looked 
in his face could doubt. 

He knew, no matter what those around thought or 
did not think concerning him, that he was bound on 
an important mission — that he was about to face a 
tartar. 

With the best intentions Mr. Vernham had sketched 
such a portrait of Mrs. Fermoy as woke what Mr. 
Tripsdale mentally called “ all the fight ” in him. 

“When Greek meets Greek,” he thought, “there 
will be the devil to pay,” and, fortified with this con- 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


177 


viction, lie shook the remembrance of his inappreciative 
fellow passengers like dust off his mind at Battersea 
Pier, and stepped ashore strong in the might of his 
strength and his determination to vanquish Mrs. Fer- 
moy and return from the battle triumphant. 

Battersea is not the nicest place in the world to 
saunter through late on a Saturday afternoon, and Mr. 
Tripsdale, who had never before penetrated into those 
remote regions lying beyond the Park, could not oc- 
casionally avoid pausing to consider the places out of 
the squalid poverty of which Timothy Fermoy’s 
daughter had jumped into over six thousand a year. 

Men who professed to be starving, were walking 
along one street four abreast lustily singing hymns, a 
wretched-looking woman in another, with a sickly- 
looking baby in her arms, was quivering out “ Home, 
Sweet Home.” On the doorstep of a house Mr. Trips- 
dale passed a half-tipsy female in a torn gown and 
wearing a battered bonnet, who was with many oaths 
adjuring some one to come out, which invitation the 
unseen individual wisely declined in a golden silence. 
Further on three lads were indulging in as much bad 
language as the irate and intemperate lady, and every- 
where foul smells and unpleasant sights and sounds 
and misery and struggling wretchedness abounded. 
Even the public-houses, not yet lighted up, looked dull 
and cheerless. It was the very hour to see a suburb 
inhabited only by the sons and daughters of toil at its 
worst, and familiar though Mr. Tripsdale was with the 
spectacle of wretchedness in Hoxton, illuminated by 
flaring naphtha, he felt that in Battersea he had reached 
a lower and less picturesque depth of misery — poverty 
without scenic effect or dramatic dress or coloring or 
relief of any sort. 

In his heart hfi believed that his light suit and 
horsey breast-pin and marvellous hat ought to be a 
joy to the neighborhood, that in this way he was a 
small Lord Mayor’s Show to the inhabitants, a pleasure 
even to look at, something unique for the natives to 


178 


TEE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


speculate concerning a person whose like they did not 
see every day. 

It was a harmless delusion which comforted him 
greatly, the while Battersea, intent on its own affairs, 
its buying and selling and making its wages go as far 
as they would, thought nothing about him save that an 
odd looking young man was passing through its midst, 
who at intervals inquired his way to Field Prospect Koad. 

“First turn to your right,” answered a policeman at 
last, adding, “what are you up to now, you young 
plagues of Egypt?” Which last inquiry was addressed 
to Bertie and Minnie who, having caught a puppy, had 
knotted a rope round its neck, and were dragging the 
unfortunate animal along the pavement. “ Loose the 
poor brute.” 

With a shrill laugh they dropped the cord and ran 
after Mr. Tripsdale, mocking his walk and his gait as 
they followed. 

“ Oh ! crikey, what a masher ! ” exclaimed Bertie, 
swinging his small person from side to side in humble 
imitation of the perfect original. 

“ Oh ! cikey, wot a mashy ! ” echoed Minnie, thrust- 
ing forward one shoulder and then the other, and 
almost tumbling in her efforts to emulate the antics 
played by the “strange man’s legs.” 

Quite unexpectedly the “ strange man ” turned and 
confronted them. 

“ Which is Mrs. Fermoy’s house ? ” he asked, in 
what seemed to the guilty pair a terrible voice. 

For an instant they stood as if petrified in an exagger- 
ation of one of Mr. Tripsdale’s own pet attitudes, then 
uttering a derisive yell of defiance Bertie took to his 
heels and fled into the next street, followed by Minnie. 

Unaware that they construed his simple question in- 
to a threat, Mr. Desborne’s clerk stood looking after 
the pair in amazement. “ What a neighborhood ” he 
thought, and he resumed his way. ^ 

Just then an ill-looking lad, neither boy nor man," 
came along the pavement whistling. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


179 


“Would you kindly tell me where Mrs. Fermoy 
lives,” asked Mr. Tripsdale, endeavoring to subdue the 
dwellers in this unfamiliar land by the power of civility. 

For answer, the young cub, who was none other than 
reprobate Dick, thrusting a dirty thumb over his 
shoulder indicated a double-fronted house, the door of 
which stood open. 

“ Boors, all boors,” decided IVIr. Tripsdale, advancing 
to the dwelling wherein Aileen had passed many an 
unhappy year. 

The Saturday cleaning was evidently but just 
finished, the oilcloth in the hall was not yet dry, and 
the white semicircle, which in all such neighborhoods 
adorns the pavement outside the front door and is a 
sort of hall-mark of respectability, since mean and poor 
and dirty indeed must be the house which fails once a 
week at all events to hang out this sign, had not arrived 
at its proper color. 

Like many another inactive housewife, Mrs. Fermoy, 
taking an unfortunate pride in her “quickness,” and 
holding her more methodical sister in deep disdain, 
was in the habit of deferring her cleaning operations 
to the eleventh hour, and then sweeping and shaking 
and banging and scrubbing with a wild energy and ter- 
rible determination well calculated to strike dismay 
into less vigorous minds. 

That afternoon she had indeed wrought wonders. 
Mats and bits of carpet had been tossed out of window 
and from the back door recklessly, and, as though things 
of no account, her sons had fled before the dust raised 
by her broom and the rapid advance of her scrubbing 
brush and pail as a routed army before the face of a 
victorious foe, and when Mr. Tripsdale sounded a per- 
emptory double rap at the door she was in the act of 
“ sluicing her face and arms ” at the kitchen sink after 
her arduous battle with the powers of dirt. 

In a neighborhood where everyone knocks double 
knocks, such a fanfare does not attract as much atten- 
tion as it might in Belgravia ; and consequently it was 


180 


TEE BEAD OF THE FIRM. 


not till Mr. Tripsdale had repeated his summons with 
greater energy than he previously exerted that Mrs. 
Fermoy came into the hall, wiping her brow and hands 
with a blue checked apron which she had snatched up 
en route. 

It was growing a little dusk in the hall by this time, 
and she could only see a vague figure standing on the 
threshold as she advanced from the kitchen, and asked 

“What is it?” 

No lady likes being disturbed at her toilet, and she 
put the question sharply. 

“ Mrs. Feimoy, I believe,” said Mr. Tripsdale, raising 
his hat in his best manner. 

“You have the advantage of me, young man,” she 
answered. “ I don’t remember ever to have seen your 
face before.” 

She was quite close to him as she spoke, and he 
knew the tug of war had come. 

Then the same devil entered into his heart as had 
taken possession of him the first day he ever saw Aileen, 
and he rejoined : 

“ You are right, madam, I have not been here before. 
Had I been, you would have remembered me. Mine 
is a nice face, once seen, never forgotten.” 

“ If you would step outside into the light I’d be 
better able to judge of that,” retorted Mrs. Fermoy, 
not in the least disconcerted by Mr. Tripsdale’s gen- 
erous self-praise. 

Her masterly suggestion, however, did not recom- 
mend itself to the visitor, who replied : 

“Nay, madam. I am sure you never could be so 
inhospitable as to think of turning me from your door.” 

“ Don’t madam me,” she exclaimed. “ I am none of 
your trapesing fine madams, but a plain, hardworking 
woman.” 

“Doubtless,” he answered with suavity, “you ought 
to know best. I, however, should never have described 
you as plain.” 

“Will you get out of my house, please,” cried Mrs. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


181 


Fermoy in a rage. “If you stand there much longer 
and give me any of your nonsense I will call soilieone 
who will make you move off pretty quick, I can tell 
you.” 

“ How cruel you are ! after I have taken the trouble, 
moreover, of corning all this way with a message for 
you.” 

“ And who sent you with a message to me ? ” 

“ Miss Fermoy.” 

“ What, Aileen ! Why couldn’t you have said that 
at once instead of beating about the bush ? I thought 
she would come to her senses before long. Well, and 
what word has she sent me ? ” 

“ Won’t you ask me in that we may talk more com- 
fortably ? ” 

“No, I think not. You see, though Aileen may 
know you I don’t. You are a stranger to me, and there 
are things lying loose all over the place that anyone 
could pick up.” 

“ Do you take me for a thief ? ” 

“ Well, if you will have it ; you seem to me more 
like a fool ; but as there is never any knowing, you had 
best deliver your message where you stand.” 

“Just as you please ; it does not matter to me, but 
it may matter to the lady who begged that I would 
come to you.” 

“ The lady ” — with withering sarcasm — “ did not 
beg you to talk as if you were an idiot, I suppose.” 

“No, madam ; I beg 3"our pardon. No, she did not. 
I am vain enough to imagine she thought my natural 
manner so good there was not any need for me to 
assume a different character.” 

“ Well, I’m sure ! ” 

“So ami.” 

“Of what?” 

“That you are going to ask me in.” 

“ Indeed I’m not. You can just as well tell me what 
my step-daughter says where we are as any place else. 
She wants to come back, I suppose.” 


182 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ I have not heard her express any wild desire to do 

SO. 

“ Still she has sent you here, and I know very well 
that means she has come out of her tantrums and finds 
there’s no place like home.” 

“I heard a woman in the street singing a statement 
to that effect as I came along,” said Mr. Tripsdale 
politely, making conversation. 

“You may tell her from me,” went on Mrs. Fermoy, 
“that though she treated me shameful and behaved 
cruel wicked, in letting the business that 1 could have 
made keep us all in comfort, slip into the bad hands 
she did for a mere trifle, I bear no malice. I never 
was hard to her from the day I married her father — an 
evil day it was for me, too ; and I am not going to 
begin now. There’s her room just as she left it. She 
can sleep in it to-night if they’ve had enough of her 
w’here she is gone. May be it’s with some friend of 
your own she’s taken up.” 

“It is very kind of you to express yourself so hand- 
somely,” replied Mr. Tripsdale, avoiding an answer to 
Mrs. Fermoy’s last suggestion. 

“There’s no accounting for tastes, and Aileen was 
always a queer girl. Her father before her was strange, 
and that sort of thing runs in a family,” returned Mrs. 
Fermoy, taking Mr, Tripsdale’s speech as an assent ; 
“ but that has neither part nor lot in what I was say- 
ing. She must have got tired of whoever she’s with, 
or more likely they’ve got tired of her. It is not every- 
one who would put up with her tantrums as I did. 
What I said before, though I’ll stick to. You tell her 
by-gones shall be by-gones, and when she comes back 
I’ll cast nothing at her, and we’ll all try and do the 
best we can. The ‘round,’ has gone past praying for 
to be sure. That crafty Mrs. Stenbridge, she thought 
so much more of than she did of her own flesh and 
blood, has skimmed the cream clean off the green- 
gTOcery trade in this part of Battersea, but there’s the 
good-will of a snug little wardrobe shop to let, and 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


183 


the whole thing could be had for £25 down, and £25 
more, payable by monthly instalments. It’s a nice, 
genteel business, is a wardrobe shop, and would be 
more to her mind than coals and potatoes, and no 
doubt the friend that lent her £30 would lend her £30 
again. She ought to see about it at once, however, 
as it’s sure to be snapped up. Will you bear that in 
your mind, and tell her what I say ? ” 

“Well, no,” answered Mr. Tripsdale. “I do not 
think I will. Though I never kept a wardrobe shop 
myself, I have no doubt it is a very charming profession, 
and one which brings a person into daily association 
with the nobility and others ; still, enticing as it may 
be, I fancy it would not exactly attract Miss Fermoy.” 

“ Oh ! you don’t ; perhaps you fancy she wants to 
sit with her hands folded all day long. ” 

“ That idea did not occur to me ; perhaps if you 
would allow me to deliver my message, it might save 
trouble.” 

“ And who has ever hindered you from delivering 
your message, if you have one ? ” 

“ Yourself, Mrs. Fermoy. Most interesting, though 
all your observations must be considered, they have 
tended to delay the communication with which I am 
charged.” 

“ Let’s hear it now then, without any more humming 
and hawing.” 

“Peep — bo — h — ” yelled a shrill voice at this junc- 
ture. 

“ Keek — ko — h — ” screamed an even shriller falsetto. 

Mr. Tripsdale, though not given to nervous tremor, 
jumped almost out of his light summer suit, at this 
unexpected and unseemly interruption, and before he 
could recover his composure, he w\as hustled against 
the wall by Mrs. Fermoy, who rushed past him in a 
wild fury, only in time to see Bertie and Minnie dis- 
appearing round the corner, from which coign of 
security their peals of derisive laughter came echoing 
back along Field Prospect Eoad. 


184 


THE HEAD OF TEE FIRM. 


“ Just wait till I catch you, you young imps ! ” panted 
forth Mrs. Fermoy, returning breathless from her un- 
successful foray. “ I don’t think any woman was ever 
so plagued as I am,” she went on in a voice choked 
with passion. “ I do my best for one and all, and this 
is the sort of return I get from those who ought to 
know better, down to those who know nothing, and 
can be taught nothing. Will you be pleased to move 
a step from the door, for I must shut it, or those 
Sodoms and Gomorrahs will be in again,” following 
on which Scriptural and eloquent peroration there 
ensued a loud bang, and Mr. Tripsdale found himself 
cut off from retreat in a passage, lighted only by the 
blaze that danced on the walls of what he concluded 
to be a kitchen. 

“ Now then, if you please,” said Mrs. Fermoy, as a 
delicate hint that her visitor was at liberty to proceed. 

“Miss Fermoy wished to know how you were,” he 
began. “ I suppose I may report that you are pretty 
well.” 

“You did not come here only for that, I suppose?” 
she retorted. 

“ Not entirely, but she would like to hear news of 
your health.” 

“When she comes herself, I’ll tell her how I am.” 

“If she wait till then she will, I fear, remain for a 
considerable time in ignorance,” replied Mr. Tripsdale. 

“Do you mean to say she is not coming back ? ” 

“ So far as I can judge, she has not the faintest in- 
tention of visiting the sylvan shades of Battersea.” 

“ And have you the impudence to stand up, and tell 
me that in my own house ? ” 

“It is by your wish, not mine, that I am standing 
up.” 

“ Do you mean it was all gammon what you said 
about Aileen, coming home? ” 

“ I never said she was coming home, though you 
did.” 

“ Where is she ? ” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


185 


“ That I cannot tell you.” 

“Will not tell me, I suppose, you mean.” 

“ Will not, if you prefer that reading.” 

“ Come along into the light till I get a better look 
at you.” 

“Certainly, madam, I beg your pardon, certainly 
with pleasure,” and Mr. Tripsdale gaily walked into 
the kitchen, where he sat without waiting to be in- 
vited, while Mrs. Fermoy struck a match,' and applied 
it to the wick, of a paraffin lamp, which she turned up 
till it smoked, when she “ dratted ” the thing, and 
waxed exceeding wroth. 

After that she beat the fire with a poker, with the 
intention of extracting an even brighter flame from the 
glowing coals, and then suddenly turning on Mr. 
Tripsdale, asked, 

“Will you tell me where my stepdaughter is now ? ” 

“Though you heat the burning fiery furnace till 
seven times seven, I will not,” replied this modern 
martyr, firmly. 

“ You won’t ? ” 

Mr. Tripsdale shook his head. 

“ Who is she with, then, if that is not a secret too ? ” 

“ An old lady.” 

“ An old lady ! ” she repeated, with scornful em- 
phasis. “Aileen’ll like being at her beck and call, 
I’m sure.” 

“ I hope she will, but I have no information on the 
subject.” 

“ And what do they do ? ” 

“ There again I am at fault, but my impression is 
that in 

‘ Books and works and healthful play. 

They wile the joyous hours away.’ 

The quotation may not be quite accurate, for my 
classics have grown somewhat rusty, but for present 
purposes it is near enough.” 

Mrs. Fermoy glared at the speaker, as though she 


186 


THE HEAD OF TEE FIRM. 


would have liked to scratch his face, hut Mr. Tripsdale, 
though really delighted in the fun, sat with an in- 
nocent, satisfied expression on his face, as though he 
had given utterance to something pleasant and ori- 
ginal. 

“How do they live?” demanded the exasperated 
lady, after a pause, during which she was casting about 
to find some form of question to which this maddening 
young man would be forced to return a straight- 
forward reply. 

“Pretty well, I believe,” answered Mr, Tripsdale, 
sweetly. “ I have never been honored with an invita- 
tion to share their modest meal, but I should say, cer- 
tainly, they live pretty well.” 

“ That’ll suit Aileen ; she always could bring a good 
appetite to her meals if they were to her taste, and 
now she’s doing so well herself she has not a thought 
to spare for those who kept her from starvation.” 

“ On the contrary, she has thought about you, which 
is the reason I am here.” 

“To ask if I’m well, as if it w’as likely I should be 
well, as if I could be well,” and Mrs. Fermoy laughed 
hysterically. 

“Perhaps you will kindly tell me how you are 
affected,” said Mr. Tripsdale, in a sympathetic tone, 
“I know Miss Fermoy would be greatly interested.” 

“I don’t know whether you are just out of Colney 
Hatch or not, but ” 

“ Oh ! dear no,” interrupted this extraordinary am- 
bassador, “I never was inside Colney Hatch. I assure 
you I am quite sane, as you will say if you are kind 
enough to listen to me for a few minutes.” 

“Listen to you ! Haven’t I been listening for this 
half-hour, hoping to hear some word of sense.” 

“ No, you have been cutting across me continually. 
Now, let us take it in turn. Let me have a chance, 
and then you shall have one ; let me speak, and then 
you shall speak. That is fair, isn’t it ? ” 

Mrs. Fermoy could only stare at him in reply, his 


THE HEAD THE FIRM, 187 

coolness took away her breath, and she remained silent 
while her temper was gathering for a storm. 

“That’s right,” said Mr. Tripsdale, as though she 
had been a naughty child trying to be good ; “ now we 
shall get on/’ and he drew his chair a little nearer to 
the table on which he placed his crossed hands. Then 
looking blandly at Mrs. Fermoy who stood with her 
back to the fire, roasting gradually, he proceeded : 

“Your step-daughter, though anxious about your 
general health, did not commission me to journey to 
this salubrious and beautiful suburb merely to give her 
love and ask if you were well. She thought as even 
thirty pounds will not last for an indefinite period that 
you might be getting a little anxious about money 
matters.” 

“ Getting a little anxious about money matters ! as 
if I ever was anything else or ever could be, with rent 
to pay and a big family to keep, and not a penny com- 
ing in except what I can make, since that ungrateful 
girl sold the good business to a stranger and left me 
in the lurch to meet all comers in the gate.” 

Mr. Tripsdale had not the faintest idea what Mrs. 
Fermoy meant by this figure of speech, but he was 
much too wily to say so. He only shook his head and 
looked sympathetic, the while he racked his brain to 
consider how he should communicate to this dreadful 
woman the extent of Aileen’s generosity, which he felt 
greatly inclined to curtail, for a time at all events, and 
would have curtailed but for the difficulty of again 
visiting Battersea within a few days. 

“There can be no doubt,” he began at last, after 
Mrs. Fermoy had committed another assault on the 
fire, and flung down the poker with a force which 
made the fender rattle in every joint, “ that Miss Fer- 
moy thought of all the matters you mention. She is 
not without experience, and now that she is pretty well 
settled her wish is to relieve you of anxiety as far as 
possible. ” 

“ What’s she going to do ? ” interrupted Mrs. Fer- 


188 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


moy. “ If slie lias no notion of coming back and put- 
ting her shoulder to the wheel, how does she suppose 
I am to drag the cart along ? ” 

“She is going to make you an allowance,” blurted 
out Mr. Tripsdale, discreetly declining any discussion 
concerning Mrs. Fermoy’s indicated labor of Hercules. 

“ Oh ! indeed. I’m glad to hear she’s got so high 
up in the world she can talk of allowances. How 
much does she intend to spare from her earnings to 
help us out of the workhouse ? ” 

“ What should you say to a pound a week ? ” 

“When I have paid fourteen and nine a week for 
the rent of this house and eighteen pence to the back 
of that for the shed that Mrs. Stenbridge left empty, 
and that no man, much less any woman, will ever look 
at, and that the landlord won’t take off my hands nor 
bate a farthing off the one and six, a pound will leave 
me a lot for wood and coal and light, to say nothing 
of food, won’t it.” 

“ Well, if she could manage two ? ” 

“ That would be better, but still just in a manner 
starvation. It is not as if my eldest son was in work ; 
when he is he brings home his three and four pounds 
a week ; ay, and when he has been working good over- 
times, I’ve known him earn as much as five pound 
ten on country jobs.” 

“Then,” said Mr. Tripsdale, “you ought to be 
millionaires.” 

“ What are they ? ” 

“ People beyond the world — people who laid by 
money when they had it and put it out like that 
fellow in the Bible and made more of it, and more 
again, till they are able to live without doing any work 
at all.” 

“ And how are poor folks such as ourselves to put by 
money ? ” 

“ Why, surely you never spent five pounds a week ? ” 
“Ay, indeed did we, and five more to the back of it, 
many and many’s the time,” replied Mrs. Fermoy 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


189 


with a thrill of pride. “ You don’t suppose I’ve always 
been the poor slave you see me now. In my first 
husband’s time I had my silk dress and gold watch and 
chain, and kept a servant, too.” 

“ Did you, really ? ” said Mr. Tripsdale, as though 
awed by such reminiscences of former grandeur. 

“ Yes, indeed I did : there was never any make be- 
lieve about me. We worked hard and we lived w^ell, 
and I’m not going to starve myself now for anybody. 
It may suit a whip-snap of a clerk to pinch his stomach 
to put decent clothes on his back, but I don’t hold my- 
self with them as sits down and stints themselves in 
food — or drapery goods, either — and so you may tell 
my step-daughter, for I have no notion of working my 
fingers to the bone that she may live on the fat of the 
land. The idea ! ” and Mrs. Fermoy banged the fire 
again in a really alarming manner. 

“ In a sentence, then, I will tell you what Miss Fer- 
moy is prepared to do, though whether she is wise in 
attempting so much is quite another question.” 

‘‘And a question that is no concern of j^ours, I- 
suppose.” 

“ In one way you are quite right. As I have not to 
find the money, it is no concern of mine. All the 
same, however, I feel very sorry she is taking upon her 
to pay you five pounds a week.” 

“ And where does she think she’s going to get five 
pounds a week for herself, to say nothing of me?” 
asked Mrs. Fermoy, incredulously. 

“ No doubt she knows her own affairs better than I 
do. Let that be as it may, however, she has commis- 
sioned me to say that you shall receive five pounds a 
week, and that in addition she will pay the rent of this 
house.” 

“ And how am I to know this is not all your hum- 
bug ? ” 

“A five pound note is not humbug,” said Mr. 
Tripsdale, producing that pretty trifle, as well as a 
sheet of paper on which he had drawn out a formal 


190 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


acknowledgment of the transaction. “If you will be 
good enough to sign this receipt I need not intrude 
upon you any longer.” 

Mrs. Fermoy looked at the speaker with great sig- 
nificance. “No, no, young man,” she replied with 
terrible calmness, “you don’t catch me that way. I 
am not such a fool as to put my hand to paj^er. Take 
up your flash note and be off before my son comes in. 
Here he is,” she added, as Mr. Connollan opened the 
front door with a latch-key and trampled heavily along 
the passage. “ He’ll break every bone in your body,” 
was the encouraging assurance with which she ended 
her sentence. 

The position was not pleasant, and Mr. Tripsdale 
wished for a moment he had never embarked on such 
an enterprise, but he was no coward, and hope which 
springs eternal, as we know, induced him to believe 
Mr. Connollan might be more accessible to argument 
than his mother. For these reasons, and also because 
he did not well know how *to get out, he kept his seat 
and greeted the new comer with a polite “ Good-even- 
ing, sir.” 

“Evening,” returned Mr. Connollan, surlily. 

“You’re just in time, Tom,” said Mrs. Fermoy. 
“This young fellow says he has brought a five-pound 
note from Ally, and wants me to put my hand to paper 
about it.” 

“ There’s no compulsion,” remarked Mr. Tripsdale. 
“ If you don’t want the money, I can take it with me,” 
and he was about to replace the money in his pocket 
when Mr. Connollan said, in a gruff voice : 

“ Leave that where it is.” 

“I will leave it with pleasure,” answered the other, 
“if Mrs. Fermoy is kind enough to sign the receipt.” 

“ We know nothing about receipts here,” returned 
Mr. Connollan. “If Ally could trust you with £5, she 
can trust us better.” 

“I don’t believe it is a good note,” struck in Mrs. 
Fermoy. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


191 


“We’ll soon make sure,” observed Mr. Connollan, 
lifting the note from the table and walking out of the 
kitchen and the house. 

“ Now you see what you have done,” said Mrs. Fer- 
moy, in a tone of awe-stricken reproach, for she had 
not been at all prepared for such a flank movement, 
and it cowed her for a moment. 

“ What have I done ? ” asked IMr. Tripsdale. 

“He’ll not be back for hours,” she answered. 

Mr. Tripsdale made no comment, but sat on in si- 
lence. He knew he would make a mistake if he at- 
tempted to move. 

“ Have you nothing to do, young man ? ” asked Mrs. 
Fermoy at last. 

“ It is a leisure evening, madam. My time is quite 
at your service,” he replied, with grave civility, rather 
pleased at the turn affairs had taken and wondering 
what would happen next. 

There ensued another pause, which Mrs. Fermoy 
employed in blowing up the fire with a pair of dis- 
reputable bellows. 

“ If you've nothing to do,” she said at last, flinging 
the bellows aside in a fury, “/have, and the sooner 
you go and let me finish my work the better I’ll be 
pleased.” 

And what answer am I to take to Miss Fermoy ? ” 

“ Tell ‘ Miss Fermoy ’ if she wants an answer she’ll 
have to come for one herself. Pretty thing, indeed, 
sending a stranger to make such a disturbance in a 
decent house ! ” 


CHAPTER XV. 


IN THE CITY. 

Mr. Thomas Desborne’s idea of teaching Aileen 
something of her country’s history by means of object 
lessons proved a very happy inspiration. No longer 
had Miss Simpson to toil painfully through names and 
dates, to retire in mental disorder from the Wars of 
the Roses, and to confess sadly that, though the Span- 
ish Armada never conquered England, it had for the 
time being vanquished her. No longer were her pupil’s 
cheeks hot and flushed by reason of unsuccessful forays 
among the Saxons, the Normans, the Tudors, and the 
Stuarts ; no longer did she sadly think that if ease of 
manner and elegance of deportment were only to be 
obtained through a thorough acquaintance with the 
manifold sins of all the monarchs who had misruled 
Britain she might as well give up the matter at once 
and remain an uncultured dunce ! 

By Mr. Desborne’s beneficent method, however, she 
knew as much in a month of English history as the 
fondest parent could have desired ; a vast deal more, 
in fact, than the majority of fond parents are ever 
likely to know themselves. 

From the day she was permitted to find out for her- 
self who Jack Cade, the Irish impostor, really was, why 
he struck London stone with his sword and exclaimed, 
“ Now is Mortimer Lord of this City,” why he behead- 
ed Lord Say, why his followers forsook him, and why 
he was obliged to shelter “in the woods of Sussex,'’ 
her interest in the wonderful story, or rather series of 
stories, London has to tell those of her children who 


THE HEAD OP THE FIRM, 


193 


really love the city, never flagged. As though it had 
been a tragedy of her own day, she read how the then 
Government offered a reward of a thousand marks to 
the person that should take the rebel alive or dead, 
how before long he was discovered in a garden at 
Hothfield, in Sussex, by one Alexander Eden, a Kent- 
ish gentleman, who endeavored to apprehend him, but 
Cade, being possessed of “courage, capacity, and 
spirit, fought till he was killed on the spot, and his 
body being brought to London, his head was cut off* 
and fixed on London Bridge, together with the heads 
of nine of his accomplices.” 

All this was new to Miss Simpson, who, however, 
received the information with a lady-like abstention 
from comment which induced Aileen to believe Jack’s 
doings were familiar to her as household words. To the 
end of her life Timothy Fermoy’s daughter will never 
see nor hear of London Stone without beholding as in 
a vision that “ great conference of people, and the 
Lord Mayor among the rest,” who stood and listened 
while the “ Kentish rebel ” made his lying declaration 
and then allowed him to return to Southwark without 
let or hindrance. 

That was her first introduction to a realm more full 
of romance, more entrancingly interesting than any 
fairy kingdom, any land inhabited by giants, any 
country where knights go forth to seek adventures, 
and fair ladies lie wrapt in slumber at the wicked will 
of evil magicians. 

For there is nothing told of the city by ancient 
chroniclers which has not happened in it, and the joys 
and sorrows, the great aspirations and the woful re- 
verses experienced by the men and the women who 
once trod the then rude pavements and who have long 
moldered into dust, thrill the hearts that to-day listen 
to the old tales even as the tears shed by Phaltiel 
nearly three thousand years ago unseal some fountain 
of sympathy lying deep and hidden in our own breasts 
and make us mourn with the man who, when com- 


194 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


manded to part from his wife, “went with her along 
weeping behind her to Bahurim.” 

It was a happy time which ensued for Aileen — a 
time, indeed, so happy for them all that it never could 
return. The glamour of those evenings in the city, the 
mysterious stillness of the old churches, the silence of 
the lanes, the spectacle of the moonlight lying weird 
and bright across the paved graveyards shining on the 
blackened trunks and branches of the almost leafless 
trees, the strange gloom that enfolded out-of-the-way 
courts and alleys on nights when, but for gas, London 
would have been enwrapped in Egyptian darkness, 
stole softly into Aileen’s soul, excited her imagination, 
awoke something that had never before started from 
slumber at the sound of human voice. 

After the first few evenings Miss Simpson did not as 
a rule accompany her charge in those expeditions. 
She had arrived at that time of life, though not for 
worlds would she have expressed the fact, when a lady 
may with a certain grace prefer I’emaining at home to 
rambling abroad, keeping the domestic fire warm 
rather than making acquaintance with ancient tombs 
and the sites of demolished churches, and it was for 
this reason that Aileen’s duenna often stated, while 
partaking of tea in Cloak Lane, that she had a slight 
cold, or felt something of a chill, and consequently 
thought she would do wisely not to venture to church. 

Mr. Desborne she knew might be trusted not to lead 
Aileen astray. Though so “wonderfully young for 
his age,” he nevertheless had reached an age when it 
was competent for him to w^alk a hundred yards, or 
tw'o hundred, or even more, with a girl, and yet not 
compromise her. Moreover, he was, after a fashion, 
Miss Fermoy’s guardian — all the guardian, at least, she 
had, and Miss Simpson, in the recesses of her culti- 
vated mind, confessed she did not care for mouldy old 
churches and the extraordinary odor of roast goose 
and defunct citizens that pervades so many of those 
musty edifices. For all of which reasons and for this 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


195 


further reason, repeated to Aileen in strict confi- 
dence : 

“ Fact is, my dear, the loss of my little fortune has 
tried me more than any mere monetary trouble ought 
to have done. It was such a shock, and such a terrible 
peiiod of anxiety supervened, I believe I feel fifteen 
years older in consequence, and as I do not know what 
the future may have in store, I want, while I can, 
thanks to your kindness, to take a little care of my- 
self, and do so. Health is all I have now, and if I can 
only keep that, I shall not much fear for the future. 
I hope, therefore, you will not think me unkind if I 
often say I fancy I should not be wise to expose my- 
self to the chance of contracting an illness.” 

Very truthfully Aileen replied that she should never 
think such a precaution unkind. 

The fact was that she much preferred a duet with 
Mr. Desborne to a trio, in which Miss Simpson took a 
bad third. All that lady’s notes about the city were, 
if not absolutely discordant, a little uncertain. 

Her heart was not in the music. She often wished 
Mr. Thomas Desborne’s tastes lay more strongly in 
some other direction. She was so loyal to present roy- 
alty that had the lawyer taken to read aloud the Court 
Circular, the erudite sentences of that paper, “ correct- 
ed by her Most Gracious Majesty,” would have sound- 
ed sweeter in her ears than any old world stories con- 
nected with Henry’s manly daughter. 

Not without reason she imagined there was as much 
interest in our modern times when history is being 
made, as in recalling the old days when history had 
been made, but Mr. Desborne did not share this 
opinion, and caused her to yawn unseen while deliver-: 
ing himself of the following sentence, a sample of many 
to which she was forced to listen : 

“Being to dedicate any church, he (S^vithin, Bishop 
of Winchester) neither used horse nor any secular 
pomp, but being accompanied with his clerics and 
those of his family, with all humility he went barefoot 


196 


THE HEAD OP THE FIRM. 


to the place. His feasting was not with the^ rich, but 
with the needy and poor. His mouth was always open 
to invite sinners to repentance, he even admonished 
those who were standing to beware of falling, and such 
as had fallen to arise again without delay,” with much 
more to the same effect. 

Was it any marvel that, with her proclivities, Miss 
Simpson usually preferred an easy chair in Mr. Des- 
borne’s room to heated churches and chill night air, 
and, in preference to explanations and lectures concern- 
ing old saints, former kings, dead and gone citizens, 
mythical legends, and foolish epitaphs culled from the 
chronicles of forgotten churches, a snug chat with Mrs. 
Kidder, who never appeared to remove what she called 
the “ teaboard ” till she heard the outer door close, when 
she descended from her eyrie in the roof, and, making 
a feint to put coal on the fires and brush every speck of 
dust from the hearth, entered affably into conversa- 
tion on the subject of the Desbornes, present and past, 
present particulars and unlimited admiration being 
largely drawn from her own memory and observation. 

So past history having been “culled ” from the rem- 
iniscences of “ poor old Mrs. Chitty, who took care 
of the offices in King’s Yard, girl and wife, for forty 
years, for she first helped her mother in the time of 
Mr. Thomas’s father and grandfather, and when Mrs. 
Savage, her mother, got past her work, Mr. Kobert 
Desborne pensioned her off ; and then Mrs. Chitty 
and her husband — he was in the employment of Messrs. 
Graytook & Co., the great turkey merchants — lived on 
the premises, and were in a manner of speaking owners 
of the place, only getting wages all the time and sitting- 
rent free, and with lots of allowances and perquisites, 
till Chitty his health broke, when they went to live in 
Salters Eents, when she, Mrs. Kidder, had a dish of 
tea with them more times than she would care to count. 
Mrs. Chitty always spoke of Mr. Kobert and Mr. Fred- 
erick Desborne just beautiful : but to her (Mrs. Kidder’s) 
notion there was not one of them — and she allowed 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


197 


they were all good — still there was not one of them a 
patch on Mi’. Thomas, and she did not care who heard 
her say so.” 

“ He is very nice, certainly,” replied IMiss Simpson, 
a little conscious tremor agitating her voice, “ but his 
nephew is very nice too.” 

“He is,” agreed Mrs. Kidder.- “I have not a word 
to say about Mr. Edwcird but what is good. Meet him 
whenever and where you will, he’s always the same, 
and what he gives away is just unknown, but when all 
is said and done give me ]\Ir. Thomas, he has the mind 
of a man and the heart of a woman, as I heard a per- 
son once remark, and I’ve proved the truth of those 
words times out of number. I am sure the first day I 
ever saw that young lady Miss Ferrnoy, her own mother 
could not have thought more about her than he did. 
A sweet young lady I call her, and one I’ve heard that 
has come into a great fortune.” 

“I believe she has succeeded to a considerable 
fortune,” answered Miss Simpson, for the housekeeper 
finished her sentence as if she meant it for a question. 

“I thought so; not that I asked for curiosity, be- 
cause I have never made myself busy about any matter 
that did not concern me, but when Mr. Desborne 
brought her up here, he told me she had been a bit 
upset, and said I was to see to her, which I did, and 
which I would see to anyone in trouble, more particu- 
larly one he wanted looked after. Well, I got her 
evei’ything I could think of, and she thanked me very 
prettily and went away, and I forgot all .about the 
matter till one evening when a brown paper parcel 
came directed to me, and inside there was the beauti- 
fullest dress, some sort of dark brown cloth, with trim- 
mings and linings all complete, and a letter from Miss 
Ferrnoy saying she hoped I would accept the gown as 
a little present from her, and that she enclosed a 
sovereign to pay for the making. 

“ I could not think what to do, for I had never 
heard of such a thing as a dress length and a pound 


198 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


just for taking in a cup of tea and a basin of water, 
so I put the matter before ray master, and asked his 
advice. 

“He laughed, and told me not to be uneasy. ‘ Miss 
Fermoy can afford to be a little generous,’ he said, and 
that was how I came to know, and also by a word Mr. 
Knevitt dropped afterward.” 

Mrs. Kidder’s account of the transaction was quite 
true. 

Aileen had done a gracious act in a manner so simple 
and quiet that Mr. Thomas Desborne felt greatly pleased 
when he heard of it, though the thought passed through 
his mind, “ This girl will need guidance or she will 
ruin herself.” 

As time went on, however, he saw there was so much 
common-sense mixed with her generosity that he did 
not obtrude any — beyond general — advice upon her.^ 
His only desires as regarded Timothy Fermoy’s daughter 
came indeed at last to be, just to secure a good client 
for his firm, and second to help to fit her for the rank 
Shawn Fermoy’s money entitled her to fill. There 
were many things she could never learn ho knew, but 
he felt assured she might learn most things necessary 
to enable her to mix with gentlewomen. Because many 
excellent wives and mothers are destitute of accomplish- 
ments, and after all French and German, music and 
drawing are not absolutely necessary ingredients in the 
happiness of a home. 

Those weeks about the city, those attendances at 
evening service, those talks about the men and women 
who had made history, and who, as long as the memory 
of London survives, inust ever be connected with its 
streets and lanes, its ancient churches, ay, the very 
ground whereon new blocks of buildings stand, and 
over which new thoroughfares run, may be said to have 
begun Aileen ’s higher education. 

She took to learning thus presented as a thirsty man 
takes to water. From the old wells of English iiterq- 
ture undefiled, she drank deep draughts. No need 


2HE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


199 


for Miss Simpson to prescribe a course of reading after 
Mr. Desborne had once indicated the books he thought 
she might like, and that he considered might teach her 
much she ought to know. Aileen w’ouid have pored 
over them from morning till night. 

About the fitness of many of these books for a young- 
person’s perusal, Miss Simpson entertained grave 
doubts, but Mr. Desborne so emphatically pooh-poohed 
her liesitating objections that the poor lady retii*ed 
vanquished though not convinced. 

To the lawyer this new experience proved delightful. 
For years he had not enjoyed anything so thoroughly 
as trotting Aileen up and down the city lanes and de- 
livering lectures as they paced quiet courts and unfre- 
quented alleys. To the ignorance of a child she added 
the intelligence of a woman. With the quick sympathy 
and questioning curiosity of youth, there was combined 
the thoughtful reflection of maturer life and the ten- 
dency to institute comparisons and deduce conclusions 
natural to a person who has experienced sorrow and 
tried to reconcile the apparent inequalities and hard- 
ships of life with a belief in Infinite goodness and wis- 
dom. 

Her faith was very firm, and yet for that very reason 
she spoke sometimes like one who was full of doubts. 
She had no fear of baring her thoughts ; anything that 
troubled her, anything that to her comprehension 
seemed passing strange in this complex world, she 
talked about without hesitation. 

It came to her quite naturally to confide in Mr. 
Desborne without restraint, and as she was a good 
listener it grew to seem more than natural to him that 
he should harangue at length on the topics which lay 
near to his heart. 

“When I am alone in my room at night,” he said to 
her once, “ I can forget the busy bustling London of 
the nineteenth century and fancy myself a citizen resid- 
ing in my ward of Dowgate, when that ward was sur- 
rounded by the houses of the principal nobility, and 


200 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


think I am a near neighbor of Eichard Chaucer, brother 
of Geoffrey. 

“Yes,” answered Aileen ; “after reading about the 
tumult at John de Ipres Mansion in St. Thomas the 
Apostle, I felt like that too. I could not help hoping 
the knight who hurried from the Savoy would reach 
the city in time, and though the Duke of Lancaster 
was such a tyrant I pitied him when he leaped up and 
fled to the Thames, and then rowed so hard to Lam- 
beth. But,” she added with a little hesitation, “do 
you think that a hundred years from now some one 
looking back on our days may say what wonderful times 
we lived in ? When you and Miss Simpson were speak- 
ing over tea about the rejoicings after the Crimean war 
and the horror of the Indian Mutiny, I began to con- 
sider that those were the sort of things that make the 
old histories so interesting.” 

“ What you say is true to a certain extent ; but the 
Crimean War and the Indian Mutiny could never make 
the City a place to dream about.” 

“Not the account of how the troops marched 
through the city with their bands playing ‘ The girl I 
left behind me.’ How it was illuminated when the 
war ended, how the first news of the mutin}' thrilled 
the heart of London — you said so, Mr. Desborne — 
and was flashed to every town and village in the 
Three Kingdoms, carrying sorrow and dismay into 
lordly mansions and quiet rectories, into houses from 
which the squires’ daughters had married and gone 
abroad with their husbands, and poor cottages that 
had also given their hostages to fortune.” 

“You are right. I did not know you were listening 
so attentively, yet, still, bad as all that was, it is not 
like history made on our very doorsteps.” 

“ Then what about the Prince Consort’s death, when 
London was in mourning, and the bells were clammed, 
and it seemed as if in each household one was missing ; 
what about the Duke of Wellington’s funeral, and the 
Prince of Wales’s marriage, and the pageant when he 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


201 


and the Danish Princess made their State progress 
through the city ; what about the Thanksgiving at St. 
Paul’s when the Qneen and the Prince of Wales and 
persons high and mighty went there to return 
thanks ? ” 

“ Too near, my child, by far ; we must stand at a 
certain distance in order to see events in their true 
proportion.” 

“ But when these events are two or three hundred 
years old, those who come after us will be able to see 
them properly, will they not ? ” 

“ They will never see them as we see King Henry the 
Second and Wat Tyler in Sinithfield, as we see Eleanor 
Conham walking barefoot from the ‘ Standard ’ to St. 
Paul’s, as we see King Henry and Queen Katherine in 
the Black Friars when the Queen walked out of the 
court, leaning on the arm of one of her servants, and 
refused to return, though the crier called her by these 
words, ‘ Katherine, Queen of England ! ’ No, the 
times are changed. England is picturesque no longer, 
neither is the city, save for its memories, interesting 
any more.” 

“ Do you think not, sir ? ” 

“ Do you think it is ? ” 

“lam not able to say what I feel right, I know, but 
I have it in my mind that wherever there are a number 
of people a great many things must be happening.” 

“Of a commonplace kind, yes.” 

“ You must not be vexed, sir, if I try to tell you 
what I mean.” 

“ I shall be very much vexed if you ‘ Sir ’ me 
again.” 

“ It slips my memory ; I am sorry,” she answered, 
receiving his half laughing rebuke as was her wont. 
“ I understand partly why you say England is not pic- 
turesque any longer, and I know the times are changed 
and the ways are different no doubt, but still men and 
women are the same.” 

“ How do you make that out ? ” 


202 


THE READ OP THE FIRM. 


“ Why — ” and she paused for a moment, “ they 
can’t be different. All the time those wars and rebel- 
lions and executions were going on there must have 
been houses where people lived and slept and dressed 
and had their meals and were vexed and pleased, just 
as we live and sleep, and eat and are vexed and pleased 
now. I can’t believe the world was so very different 
then from the world we see.” 

Mr. Desborne shook his head. “ It was very differ- 
ent,” he declared. “I cannot imagine why you should 
believe otherwise.” 

“ I will tell you sir, what I have thought. After my 
father’s death I had a good few books, many of them 
nice books, that had been given to him, or that he had 
bought, for he was fond of reading, but one by one 
they got lost or torn, so at last there was none left but 
my mother’s bible, which would have gone, too, only I 
laid it past and never let the children get hold of it.” 

“ Yes ? ” said Mr. Desborne, interrogatively. 

“Well, I read a few verses every day, as many an- 
other does, and they might as well have been Latin or 
Greek for anything I understood of what they meant, 
till one Sunday I chanced to hear the clergyman read 
about Joseph and his brethren, which sounded as it 
had never done before, and when I got home I thought 
I would like to go through that again ; and so by de- 
grees I read a great deal over and over till I gathered 
some sense out of what I read, and found the book 
was full of stories about people being fond of each 
other and hating each other, some trying to be good, 
and more letting themselves be wicked, and though 
maybe you’ll think me foolish, sir, and talking concern- 
ing things I don’t rightly understand, when I hear 
about a husband and wife doting on one another, I 
think Jacob and Rachel did the same thousands of 
years ago, and he had to part from and bury her, as 
many a man has had to do since ; and he had trouble 
with his sons, just as we read almost every day some 
father’s heart is broken with unruly children ; and Cain 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


203 


and Abel did not agree, the same way brothers dis- 
agree every day now ; and Jacob cheated Esau, and 
they fell out, though they made it up afterward ; and 
think how false Delilah was to Samson, and how Saul 
turned against David. Oh ! sir, I think if you’d take a 
look through the New and the Old Testament you would 
come round to think, as people have not changed in 
three or four thousand years, it is not likely they have 
greatly altered since the times of those kings and 
queens who were feasted in the city, and did so much 
that was wrong and made their subjects miserable.” 

If they had been walking along one of the great 
thoroughfares in the city this speech which Aileen 
poured forth from her heart could never have been 
made, but, as it chanced, immediately before the talk 
began they were turning into Trinity Square, which 
was almost deserted, and from thence pursued a de- 
vious way through a maze of quiet lanes and silent 
courts into Fen church Street, when Mr. Desborne 
said : 

“You are a good girl, and have interested, though 
not converted, me. I am like a man in love. I think 
nothing at all resembles the city of my choice. To 
me its very defects seem virtues. If Sir Christopher 
Wren’s plans had been carried out in their integrity 
we might, it is true, have possessed a beautiful town, 
but not an interesting one ; we should have lacked 
the quaint corners, the unexpected courts, the queer 
passages, the narrow alleys, some of which I am going 
to show you now. ” 

Though he thus turned the conversation, however, 
what the girl had said pleased Mr. Desborne well. 

“It is not,” he observed afterward to Miss Simp- 
son, “ that her remarks are particularly original, or 
contain an idea especially worth remembering, but 
they prove she has begun to exercise her reasoning fac- 
ulties, and that she is deriving both enjoyment and 
profit from your admirable instruction.” 

“ Say rather from yours, Mr. Desborne,” answered 


204 : 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


tlie lady. “ Till you opened up this mine of interest, 
any attempts at teaching resulted only in failure.” 

“ Not so,” he replied. “ What could my poor efforts 
effect if 3^ou did not second them so admirably? 
Keally, when I think of the improvement — a couple of 
months, that is the time, is it not ? ” 

“ Say about twelve weeks, certainly not more.” 

“ When I see,” amended Mr. Desborne, “ the 
change twelve short weeks have wu’ought, I am lost in 
admiration of your system, whatever it may be. Miss 
Fermoy is a different person in manners, speech, ap- 
pearance, mien. If something less than three months 
have produced such an alteration, what, I ask myself, 
may not a year effect ? ” 

Miss Simpson shook her head sadly, and said, “She 
will never be other than a homely person,” which in 
her sense meant that Aileen need never expect to 
moult the poor dingy feathers of her earlier life and 
assume the gorgeous plumage which in society makes 
such fine birds out of even very inferior fowl. 

“ And what,” asked Mr. Desborne, “ does any sensi- 
ble man want other than a ‘ homely ’ wife to bless his 
hearth, to be the mother of his children, his friend in 
joy, his comforter in sorrow, his stay in health and 
sickness ? Aileen Fermoy may never be a brilliant 
talker, an accomplished linguist, or a clever musician, 
but she will be an angel in the house she enters. 
Charles Lamb had his dream children, if you remem- 
ber ; surely I may have my dream daughter ? If heav- 
en had given me a daughter in reality I should have 
wished her exactly to resemble this girl as she is now 
in nature, as she will be in other respects at the end 
of next year.” 

“ And I am sure,” agreed Miss Simpson, “if I could 
choose a daughter it would be one who in every way 
resembled my pupil.” 

Miss Simpson was not, as a rule, an untruthful 
woman ; indeed, in the main she was truth itself, yet 
this speech could but be considered a free reading of 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


205 


“ Love me, love my dog.” Any girl ^Ir. Desborne had 
chosen mentally to adopt would have been equally dear 
to her, and it was only for this reason she chimed in 
when he praised Aileen, because, certainly, that young- 
person differed greatly from the “ elegant females ” 
immortalized by some early novelists — delicate hero- 
ines who always dressed in white muslin, fainted on 
the smallest provocation or on none, did nothing use- 
ful, played the harp (badly), and in and out of season 
warbled sentimental ditties to an accompaniment on 
the guitar, who were the fashion in fiction long ago, 
and who still ideally survive in the minds of many 
worthy people who ought to have more sense. 

“Our pleasant evenings will soon be things of the 
past,” said ]\Ii\ Desborne, nfter a pause, during which 
he was, perhaps, wandering with Eli through the sad, 
fair land called “ Might have been.” “ They have been 
very delightful to me. What shall I do without them 
— and you ? ” 

A pregnant question, Miss Simpson thought, and 
yet a most ridiculous one ; because, if the speaker had 
really felt the evenings delightful, if truly he did not 
know what he should do without them or her, it was 
in his own power to secure their continuance and her 
companionship till death ended both. 

The poor lady’s heart stood still. Like all things 
long-looked forward to, the desired end had come 
upon her very suddenly. She was as one who liears 
the warning given before some hour earnestly desired, 
and holds his breath so as to catch the first stroke 
which tells it has arrived. Supper was over in York 
Terrace. Mr. Desborne sat in an easy-chair drawn up 
to the hearth. Miss Simpson, on the opposite side, 
sat in another eas3"-chair, pushed a little further from 
the fire, for, like all good women, she was careful of 
her complexion. The whole scene struck her as do- 
mestic in the extreme, not to say conjugal. Aileen 
had gone to her own room somewhat tired, she said, 
but that was as it might be. “A good girl — a very 


206 


THE HEAD OP THE FIRM. 


good girl,” considered Miss Simpson, for tbe moment ^ 
unreservedly adopting Mr. Desboriie’s opinion of her 
pupil ; “ careful never to allow herself to be de trap, 
possessed of as much delicate tact as mauy higher 
born and better instructed lack.” 

A truly nice, good girl ; in fact, sweet-tempered, 
thoughtful, capable of great improvement, somewdiat j 
homely, no doubt, as she. Miss Simpson, had observed, ; 
but that, Mr. Desborne had nicely put it, was a good 
quality in a woman. 

It would be a charming quality if they were all to 
live together a truly happy family. 

Miss Simpson could not picture a more blessed fut- 
ure than that they three might spend, Mr. Desborne , 
going each morning to business and returning even- { 
ing after evening to a comfortable home presided 
over by a competent and refined gentlewoman, and 
gladdened with the presence of an adopted daugh- 
ter. 

For a moment she closed her eyes so as more fully ' 
to enjoy the picture. When she opened them again ■ 
Mr. Desborne was looking at her as though expecting 
some answer, but Miss Simpson found an answer diffi- . 
cult to make. ; 

His question had been plain enough, yet what could 
she say in reply which might bring matters to a satis- 
factory conclusion ? 

It was impossible for her to point out that the way 
to a perpetuity of such pleasant evenings as he spoke of 
lay through the church -door, not church-doors, but one 
specially selected, where, with ring and all things “ de- 
cent and in order,” he, Thomas, should take her, 
Frances, to have and to hold for better, for worse, for 
richer, for poorer. 

“We shall not have many more of these pleasant 
evenings,” he said, varying the form of his previous re- ; 
mark, but not its spirit. “Perhaps, however, they< 
were not so agreeable to you as to me. I often thought \ 
you must have felt lonely sitting in my dull room'J 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


207 


while Miss Fermoy and I were in some old church or 
roaming about the city.” 

“ Lonely, Mr. Desborne ! ” repeated Miss Simpson, 
“ in that delightful room surrounded by every com- 
fort, knowing that you were enjoying the happiness of 
forming Miss Fermoy’s mind and leading her to con- 
template the great events of past history ! No, indeed. 
I never felt happier than while musing on the present 
and speculating concerning the future. Cloak Lane 
will always remain in my memory as a very haven of 
rest and peace.” 

“ I am so glad ! ” said Mr. Desborne ; “ but then I 
always thought you one of the most unselfish persons 
I ever met.” 

Such praise is undeserved,” murmured Miss Simp- 
son. 

“ My opinion was formed when I enjoyed ample op- 
portunities for observation,” he persisted. 

“ We shall be going to Teddington very soon,” re- 
marked Miss Simpson, modestly shifting the conversa- 
tion from her own merits, and leading it back toward 
the point she desired to reach. 

“ I feared such would be the case from something 
my nephew said yesterday.” 

“ He and Mrs. Desborne have generally returned to 
town much earlier than November.” 

“ Yes, I fail quite to understand this new departure.” 

“ Mrs. Desborne has never before been in Dorset- 
shire at this season.” 

“That is true. On the other hand, her husband 
has not been in the habit of remaining at Ashwater 
even for a week when his wife was absent.” 

“ He has the boy ” 

“ Yes, he has the boy.” And there was a pause. 

“ Mrs. Desborne wishes us to go down on the sev- 
enth,” said Miss Simpson, finding the silence embar- 
rassing and discouraging. 

“ Indeed ! before Lord Mayor’s Day ; then this will 
be our last Sunday together.” 


208 THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 

“ For the present,” amended Miss Simpson. 

“ And for me there will be nothing left save memory 
and anticipation.” 

Certainly he was very tiresome. It was nice to 
know he would remember, and pleasant to hear he 
would look forward, but at a time when it was compe- 
tent for him to merge both memory and anticipation 
in present fruition Miss Simpson could not but regard 
his regrets and longings as absurd. 

“ Perhaps,” she suggested, shyly, feeling she could 
not let the opportunity slip away quite unimproved, 
“ you might Ibe able to run down to Ash water ‘ occa- 
sionally.’ ” 

“ May I ? ” he asked, eagerly. “ I should like to do 
so immensely. It would be a delightful change, but I 
fear I should prove an intruder.” 

“I must not flatter you, Mr. Desborne,” said the 
lady with diplomatic coyness. 

“ You are very kind,” he answ^ered, in a tone which 
might have meant anything or nothing, but apparently 
meant the latter, since he added no further word. 

“Mrs. Desborne in her last letter,” resumed Miss 
Simpson, still bent on making conversation, “ in a let- 
ter, in fact, which I received on Friday, says that if not 
inconvenient she thinks it might be well if Frederick re- 
mained at Ashwater over the winter. She does not 
consider him strong, and is of opinion he would out- 
grow his delicacy more quickly in the country than in 
town. I am of the same opinion.” 

“ And what does his father say ? ” asked Mr. Des- 
borne, quickly. 

“ His father agrees with her.” 

“ Perhaps that is the reason he has remained so 
long at Teddington, too.” 

“ Very probably.” 

“ I have no doubt it is. And can you aiTange to 
have the boy ? Will he interfere with your comfort 
at all?” 

“ Not in the least. Miss Fermoy is quite delighted 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


209 . 


at the prospect of seeing a little after the child. She 
intends to ask Mrs. Desborne to let her get a favorite 
donkey down for Fred to ride.” 

“ If I had needed another inducement to visit Ted- 
dingtoh frequently, which indeed I did not, Miss Simp- 
son, you have now supplied it,” said the lawyer, ris- 
ing. “ I shall go back to my lonely chambers happier 
to-night for what you have told me. Thank you heart- 
ily. Good-by for the present.” 

“ And you really will come to see us ? ” she said, lin- 
geringly, as she walked with him across the hall. 

Indeed I will — often ” 

“ Because, you know, we cannot go to see you when 
we are settled at Ashwater.” 

“ I am not sure of that I think a way may be ar- 
ranged out of the difficulty. Good-by again,” and Mr. 
Thomas Desborne pressed Miss Simpson’s hand once 
more, and passed out into the night. 

^‘Keally,” thought the lady, “there never was so 
charming and provoking a person 1 ” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


“truth if the ” 

On that same Sunday evening when Miss Simpson's 
expectations were so unduly raised only to be disap- 
pointed, two persons sat in the dining-room at Ash- 
water, one of whom the junior partner would have felt 
very sorry to see there, whether as client or guest. 

For the Desbornes had ever been particular about 
their clients, as some men are, and all men ought to 
be, about their friends. For persons who had done 
wrong, Avho had wasted their substance, got into debt, 
fallen from their high estate, they w’ould be sorry, they 
would do their best, and their best was very good in- 
deed ; but for “ shady people,” for those who were al- 
ways shaving the wind, hovering on the edge of a note, 
keeping within the letter of the law while infringing 
its spirit, they entertained no toleration. Over and 
over again they had declined business on the plea that 
“ it would not suit them,” that it “ was out of their 
line ” or “ beyond their province,” and so retained their 
self-respect and lost some money. They had thus won 
for themselves a high name. To be a client of theirs 
was almost a certificate of respectability, and certainly 
no man like the individual who on that Sunday even- 
ing sat opposite to the head of the firm in his house 
at Teddington, had ever before been on familiar terms 
with any Desborne, whether in his private or profes- 
sional capacity. 

Yet the stranger was not bad looking. Some women 
would even have called him handsome, for he had the 
black hair, dark eyes, white teeth, and decided feat- 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


211 


ures which find favor with the sex, but anyone who 
knew much about the world, more especially about the 
business world, would instinctively have shunned his 
society and declined the honor of his acquaintance. 

No man can serve two masters, and this man had so 
long served his master that Mammon’s sign and super- 
scription were set plainly on his forehead for the initi- 
ated who ran to read if they chose. 

But he did not profess to be other than he was. He 
never brought his better nature forward in business 
matters in order to deceive those with whom he dealt ; 
on the contrary, he always avowed himself a very 
Shylock. If people did not like his terms, they need 
have no transactions with him. If they accepted his 
terms, then tliey ought not to expect him to modify 
them. He piqued himself on his honesty and frank- 
ness, and was consequently in the habit of uttering 
unpleasant truths with a want of reticence which some 
unreasonable persons considered brutal. 

In his domestic relations he was a good son, a fond 
husband, and an indulgent father ; he gave to the 
poor, and he could be generous to his friends. 

As such men go he was not a bad fellow, but the 
trail of the serpent was over him, and he tortured, even 
when he had no intention of doing so, or of harrowing 
his victim’s feelings. 

A mere glance at Mr. Desborne’s face might have 
sufficed to show he had been under the harrow, the 
anxious look in his kindly eyes and a strained expres- 
sion about his mouth spoke eloquently of a very bad 
quarter of an hour not yet ended. 

To his sensitive nature that Sunday afternoon had 
seemed one long-drawn torture, apparently not one whit 
nearer its close when a perfect mound of nut-shells 
mutely recorded the guest’s progress through dessert 
than when he first began operations. 

“ Those are good filberts,” said the stranger, helping 
himself to a few more. “ They are not so large as I 
have seen, but I do not think that I ever tasted better.” 


212 


THE HEAD OF THE FIEM, 


Had any spirit been left in Mr. Desborne he would 
have liked to suggest that filberts never grew to a 
greater size, and therefore it was probably cob-nuts to 
which Mr. Tovey referred, but as matters stood he 
merely intimated his pleasure at having anything at 
Ash water give satisfaction. 

“Yes, they are very good — very good indeed,” re- 
peated Mr. Tovey, extracting a kernel. “ That garden 
of yours must eat up a lot of money.” 

Mr. Desborne winced when he replied, “Oh, dear 
no, it does not cost much.” 

“Don’t tell me,” rejoined Mr. Tovey, dogmatically; 
“I know all about that ; there is nothing more expen- 
sive than a garden, and nothing which makes poorer 
returns. You pay a man five-and-twenty shillings a 
week, I suppose ? ” 

“ Three-and-twenty,” answered the unhappy em- 
ployer. 

“ And he insists on having a man under him at eigh- 
teen more ? ” 

“ He has only his son, who receives .twelve.” 

“ There you are, five-and-thirty a week, ninety 
pounds a year, to which you must add fuel, and heav- 
en knows what besides. Saj’^, at a very moderate com- 
putation, three pounds a week, more, probably four, 
and two out of every three bunches of grapes sold by 
the gardener on his own account and for his own 
profit.” 

“I do not believe any man cheats me of a penny,” 
said Mr. Desborne, roused to expostulation. 

“I notice every employer thinks his gardener honest 
till he finds him out,” returned Mr. Tovey, putting an- 
other kernel into his mouth. “You may take my word 
for it, a garden is a mistake except as a luxury, which 
you make up your mind to pay for. Those are fine 
grapes, for instance, but you could buy finer in Covent 
Garden for half what it costs you to grow them. I’ll 
be bound, if we went into figures, you would find every 
bunch that is put on your table costs you a guinea, and 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


213 


every egg you chip a shilling. Country life is a mis- 
take unless you know how to look after your people.” 

“ Do you mean to imply that I do not know how to 
look after them ? ” 

“ I mean to say openly I am positive you don’t.” 

Mr. Desborne knew something about the conse- 
quences of letting a verdict go by default, but he 
lacked courage to speak in his own defence, and in- 
deed he felt very certain no defence would avail him. 
Though he had never before come into close contact 
with anyone resembling Mr. Tovey, he decided his 
best and only course was silence. 

“That is a sound wine,” said the guest, setting 
down his glass, which he had emptied, after vainly 
waiting for some comment on his last speech. 

“I am glad you like it,” answered Mr. Desborne. 

Mr. Tovey refilled his glass and pushed the long, 
slim bottle over to Mr. Desborne, thus notifying he 
also might partake of its contents if he listed. “ Now, 
what does this stand you in — seventy ? ” 

“ Ninety,” was the reply. 

“Too dear! far too dear! I could put you in the 
way of buying as good if not a better wine for half the 
money.” 

“ You are very kind, but I have as much in my cel- 
lar as I am likely to require for some time. Marco- 
briimm does not suit every one’s taste, and I cannot say 
I greatly care for it myself.” 

Mr. Tovey regarded the speaker in amazement. 

“What wine do you care for?” he asked sarcasti- 
cally. 

Except a good dose of poison or a few ounces of 
chloroform there was nothing Mr. Desborne ardently 
desired at that moment ; but under the spell of his 
guest’s dark glittering eyes, and perhaps inspired by 
the recollection of a pleasant evening long past, when 
some bottles of the American vintage were produced, 
he answered off-hand “ Catawba.” 

“ Pish ! ” exclaimed Mr. Tovey. 


^14 THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 

“I like the herby flavor,” went on Mr. Desbome, 
“ and the curious bouquet seems to me delightful.” 

“ Pah ! ” retorted Mr. Tovey. 

“ Of course I have no wish to impose my tastes on 
any other person,” said Mr. Desborne, in polite protest 
against his guest’s tone. 

“You could not succeed in imposing them on me,” 
returned Mr. Tovey, with a decision which must have 
settled the matter had Mr. Desborne felt any inclina- 
tion to pursue the argument further. 

“ You keep no carriage,” observed Mr. Tovey, after 
a short pause devoted to bon-bons and raspberry bis- 
cuits. Whether he meant the remark to imply praise 
or blame, it was impossible to determine, and in no 
way could have influenced the answer, as Mr. Desborne 
did not keep a carriage, and said so. 

“ Neither in town nor here ? ” 

“I keep none anywhere.” 

“ You are wise. On the whole, it is always cheaper 
to job.” 

“I do not job ; only hire a fly or hansom when ne- 
cessary.” 

There was not much to find fault with in this state- 
ment. Having framed his indictment so as to include 
a carriage, it would have been difficult for even Mr. 
Tovey to suggest that the expense of an occasional 
hansom or fly was an extravagance too great to be con- 
doned ; still he could not refrain from saying, 

“ Nowadays, when omnibuses and railways almost 
pass our doors, it is not necessary to hire often.” 

Mr. Desborne, receiving this as a statement which 
required no answer, did not make an}", wisel}^ leaving 
it a moot question whether he hired often or refrained 
from hiring. 

Then ensued a pause, during the continuance of 
which Mr. Tovey’s face assumed by degrees a look of 
deep thought, while the anxious expression in Mr. Des- 
borne’s eyes and the strained rigidity of the lines about 
his mouth became more painfully evident. Perhaps he 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


215 


grew conscious of this himself after a few moments, for 
he drew the despised Marcobriimm to him, and, pour- 
ing a little out, wet his parched lips, which were dry as 
those of a man ill with fever. 

The action, slight as it was, aroused Mr. Tovey from 
his reverie. This time he did not again apply himself 
to the dessert, but arose from the table, and walking 
across the room opened one of the French windows 
and stepped out on the verandah. It was a dull No- 
vember night, but not very dark, and when his sight 
grew accustomed to the gloom he could see dimly the 
bare branches of the trees, showing black against the 
sky, the broad gravelled walk, and the grass beyond, 
while from still farther off there came a mysterious 
sound, which he concluded to be. caused by the con- 
stant flow of water and the rippling of the current 
around some obstruction. 

He took a turn up and down the gravel walk in front 
of the house, and then bent his steps in the direction 
of the river, beside which there was a landing-stage 
with boat-house. He stood leaning against the white 
railing for a few minutes, listening to the water sobbing 
and gurgling on its way. The quiet and the solitude 
of the place seemed strange to him, and for a. short 
time not unpleasant. He co^ld imagine that on a sum- 
mer evening, in company with a good cigar, it would 
be nice to loll over those railings and watch the boats 
going up and down the stream. He thought further 
he should not object to be in one of the boats, on such 
a summer evening, going up and down himself. He 
could not row and he did not wish to row, but people 
were always to be had, he remembered, who asked noth- 
ing better than to be allowed to exhaust themselves, 
and who liked to be invited down to such a place for a 
night or two. He had inspected the premises by day- 
light with Mr. Desborne, and now that he was viewing 
them by night alone they seemed even more desirable 
than he imagined to be the case a few hours previous^. 
His heart was full of kindness as he slowly returned to 


216 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


the house, and when he drew close to the lighted room 
where Mr. Desborne still sat near the fire, he paused 
and looked, on the whole appro vingl}', at an interior 
which recommended itself to a somewhat luxurious 
taste. 

Of course there were many things he would have 
preferred altered, suggestions he felt he might make, 
improvements that ought to be carried out, but these 
were details, trifles which could soon be set to rights, 
with which Christian thought he pushed the sash wide 
and re-entered the room, bringing a rush of cold fresh 
air with him. 

“ You have a snug little place here,” he said, resum- 
ing his former seat. 

It had not been the habit of the owner’s previous 
visitors to speak of Ashwater as “little.” The house 
was large and the grounds were extensive, therefore 
the word seemed offensive rather than affectionate, but 
Mr. Desborne let it pass. 

“ Yes,” he agreed, “it is a snug place.” 

“Wants a lot of money laid out on it, though.” 

“ Mr. Hankington, my predecessor, did spend a large 
amount. He threw out a new wing, rebuilt the sta- 
bling, put up a vinery, and greatly improved the 
grounds.” 

“ That was a long time ago, though.” 

“Not so very long, only eight years. The vinery 
was but just finished when he received that Australian 
appointment.” 

“ And let the place go for an old song ? ” 

“ I cannot say about an old song, but it went, I be- 
lieve, cheap.” 

“ How much did you give for it ? ” 

“ I did not give anything, it was my uncle who 
bought it.” 

“ At what figure about ? ” 

“ That I do not know ; there is an old saying which 
tells us we should refrain from looking a gift horse in 
the mouth.” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


^17 


“ Did he give you this place, then ? ” 

“He did.” 

“ By Jove ! — but of course such a present was noth- 
ing to him ! 

Apparently Mr. Desborne was as little able to answer 
this question as he had been that relating to the pur- 
chase-money of Ash water, at all events he made no 
reply. 

“ Come, now, I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Mr. 
Tovey, after a minute’s consideration, pushing his plate 
from him with a vehemence which scattered the nut- 
shells over the cloth, “ I’ll have a deal with you for this 
place. I want to help you, and I have been thinking 
for some time past that if I could pick up a box such 
as Ashwater, with a bit of land attached — a sound river- 
side freehold in which I could lay out my money to 
advantage — I’d buy it. Will what I propose suit you ? ” 

Mr. Desborne turned deadly pale ; as he essayed to 
speak he looked, indeed, white as the snowy tablecloth 
from which Mr. Tovey was collecting some of the shells 
that had escaped from his plate, but before his guest 
lifted his eyes he managed to recover himself, and 
said : 

“I don’t think that would quite do. I certainly 
should not like my uncle to imagine ” 

“You are quite right ; that did not occur to me,” in- 
terrupted Mr. Tovey. “ No, you ought not to play any 
tricks with your chances. He will leave everything to 
you in the ordinary course of events. I see your mean- 
ing exactly.” 

On the face of this earth there never was any idea 
more widely different from the objection in Mr. Des- 
borne’s mind than the one suggested by Mr. Tovey, 
but when that idea w^as j^ut thus plainly he acquiesced 
in it, even while hating himself for doing so. 

“He’s as rich as a Jew, I suppose,” went on the 
visitor, accepting silence for consent. 

“I know nothing whatever about his means. I onl^^ 
know he is the kindest and the best man in the world.” 


218 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ An observation highly creditable to both parties, I 
am sure,” said Mr. Tovey, in a spirit of irony, but still 
with a gravity worthy of all praise. 

“It is an observation which feebly embodies my real 
feeling.” 

“ Quite so,” agreed Mr. Tovey, nodding. “ He must 
have saved a lot of money.” 

“ He has never been communicative about his pri- 
vate affairs,” said Mr. Desborne, coldlj'. 

“ Wise men never are. Your share in the business 
must tot up to something considerable.” 

“Pretty well. I can’t complain.” 

“ You are the head of the firm too, takes the lion’s 
share, eh ? ” 

“ Scarcely. Though in our office the son of the elder 
brother has been regarded as the Head of the Firm, 
the division of profits is tolerably equal.” 

“ The property has not gone with the title in part ? ” 

“No.” 

“And 5'ou are doing a fine business?” 

“ As times go — yes ” 

“ And this place is your own ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“Not mortgaged?” 

“No.” 

“ And your wife has her marriage settlement of 

£ 10,000 ? ” 

“ She has.” 

“ And you have only one child living, the boy I saw 
this afternoon ? ” 

“ Only one.” 

“Then how the deuce does it come that you are 
short of money ? ” 

“ I told you at our first interview I have been out- 
running the constable a little.” 

“ A long way it seems to me.” 

“ A long way, then, if ” 

Whatever may have been going to follow Mr. Des- 
borne’s “ if ” was cut short by the entrance of coffee. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


219 


“I don’t care for any, but I’ll just take a cup,” said 
Mr. Tovey, addressing his host, but looking hard at 
the maid who handed around the tray. 

“Leave it on the side table,” dii’ected Mr. Desborne, 
and the maid withdrew. 

“That is a pretty young woman,” remarked Mr. 
Tovey. 

“She is nice looking.” 

“ What does your wife think of her ? ” 

Mr. Desborne stared at the speaker, then replied, 
“ I believe she thinks her nice-looking, too.” 

“ Did she make this coffee ? ” 

“I should say not ; the cook, more probably.” 

“If I were coming here often, I should ask you to 
let me give your cook a lesson.” 

As there was nothing less likely than that Mr. 
Tovey would be frequently entreated to honor Ash- 
water with his presence, Mr. Desborne only asked : 

“Do you not think it good, then?” 

“ Good ! no ; the English can’t make coffee ; they 
do not know how.” 

Mr. Desborne had tasted coffee made in France, and 
was vain enough to think that in his own house com- 
pared not unfavorably with it. His guests had like- 
wise lauded the erring cook’s skill, but it was of no use 
for him to state these facts. From Mr. Tovey’s dictum 
there could be no appeal. 

Than his judgment was no higher court. When a 
man possesses not only brains but money, and when 
no other man, unless he lacks brains or money, or 
both, ever seeks his help, it is small marvel that the 
owner of two such good things should grow to regard 
himself as omnipotent. Mr. Tovey at all events con- 
sidered he was, after a fashion, omnipotent and well- 
nigh omniscient. He knew he could, to a certain ex- 
tent, rule destinies, and he fancied he could also read 
hearts. 

He believed he was reading Mr. Desborne’s then, 
“ Like an open book, sir,” and laughed to himself as 


220 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


he pushed aside his cup, as he had pushed aside his 
plate ; spilling some of the coffee on the cloth, as he 
had scattered some of the nut-shells. 

“ Oh ! beg pardon,” he said, trying clumsil}^ to 
remedy the mischief, by dabbing his serviette on the 
stain. 

“ Pray do not trouble yourself, it is of no con- 
sequence,” exclaimed Mr. Desborne. 

“ I am afraid I must leave it to the laundress,” con- 
fessed Mr. Tovey. “ I am sorry to have been so care- 
less, but the fact is I was thinking of something else,” 
and thrusting his hand into the breast pocket of his 
coat, he produced a long blue envelope, out of which 
he extracted some business-like looking papers, that 
he proceeded to lay before him on the table. 

Then came a light into Mr. Desborne’s eyes, but the 
lines about his mouth did not relax. The tension of 
that long afternoon li^id told ; he was not sure, he felt 
afraid to hope. 

“ I like you,” began Mr. Tovey, speaking with great 
deliberation ; “we both know why, and because I like 
you, I have brought what you want against my better 
judgment.” 

“ Why, against ? ” 

“ I will tell you presently,” said the other, cutting 
across his question. “ These are the bills drawn at 
three months, the period you named.” This was in- 
terrogative, and Mr. Desborne answered 

“ Yes ! ” 

“lam charging you bank rate, and twQ^per cent, 
commission,” proceeded Mr. Tovey. 

“ Thank you.” 

“ Do you exactly follow me ? ” 

“ Perfectly.” 

“ I do not think you do. In addition to the ordi- 
nary discount, I have charged the — for me — very mod- 
erate commission of eight per cent, per annum.” 

“I understand you clearly ” 

“ And I have drawn a cheque for the difference which 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


221 


is dated to-morrow, the bills are likewise dated to- 
morrow, so every possible advantage is given to you.” 

“I am greatly obliged.” 

“ I want no misconception about the matter. If you 
will do business with me, do it with your eyes open. 
Do not say hereafter you were drawn into this affair — 
that you were misled, hoodwinked.” 

“ I shall say none of those things.” 

“Or think them?” 

“ Or think them.” 

“Very well, here are the bills. Be good enough to 
accept them. I see ink over there,” and Mr. Tovey 
obligingly rose and, taking a stand from the sideboard, 
placed it on the table after folding back the cloth care- 
fully, mindful of previous misadventures. 

“ Where am I to sign ? ” asked Mr. Desborne, hold- 
ing the pen Mr. Tovey gave him above one of the slips 
of paper. 

“ Where ? Good Lord, have you never accepted a 
bill before ? ” 

“ Never.” 

“ Nor drawn one?” 

“ Never.” 

Mr. Tovey looked at so much innocence doubtfully 
for a moment, then drew in his breath with a low, 
curious noise. “ I did not suppose there was a man 
in England could truthfully say as much,” he remarked. 

“ Is the fact so extraordinary, then ? ” 

“ Extraordinary ; I should think so ! Now, let me 
show you,” and he dashed off, “ accepted payable.” 
“ Where do you bank ? ” 

“ Oh ! not at my bank, for Heaven’s sake.” 

“ Where then, your office ? ” 

“ No ; worse and worse ; must they be made pay- 
able somewhere ? ” 

“ Why, of course they must ; you are a i^retty sort 
of lawyer not to know that. Shall I say my bank ? ” 

“If you please.” 

“Very well, then, just sign your name there, or, 


222 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


rather, do not till I have said my say. Across that 
bill stamp, lies the direct road to ruin. The moment 
you write the words Edward Desborne you will have 
taken the first step along it.” 

“That is but a poor jest if you mean it for one.” 

“ I do not mean it for a jest at all ; I am as seiious 
as I ever was in my life. I know exactly what has 
happened in hundreds of similar cases, and what will 
happen in 3’ours. You think now you will be able to 
meet those bills in three months and three days ; you 
won’t. You believe now that date is a long way off. 
It is not ; the weeks will run by so fast that before you 
can clap hands you will find yourself counting the 
hours before your acceptances will be with the notary. 
Be advised, have nothing to do with me, or others like 
me, except in the way of buying and selling. Give 
me back my cheque, and throw those bills in the fire. 
If you do not, you will have begun to play a game 
with fortune, in which you are sure to lose. Come, 
let me be your friend indeed,” and he took up the 
papers and made as though he would have torn them 
in two, when Mr. Desborne snatched them out of his 
hands. 

“Prove yourself my friend indeed, by being my 
friend in need,” he said, with a nervous laugh. “ Do 
not be afraid ! I shall be prepared to meet my ac- 
ceptances at the proper time. Where do I sign — 
here?” and hurriedly writing his good name on the 
three stamped slips, he blotted off and handed them 
to Mr. Tovej", who, letting the biUs lie on the table 
before him, watched Mr. Desborne as he took pos- 
session of the cheque and glanced at it. 

“ You have crossed this,” he said. 

“ Of course,” answered Mr. Tovey. 

“ I should like an open one.” 

“Afraid to sully your banking account by passing 
my cheque through it ? ” 

*‘No, but ” 

“Yes,” finished the other. “Here, give it to me,” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


2ti3 

and having written “Pay .cash” and initialled this 
mandate, he returned the document to Mr. Desborne 
and ended the transaction. 

“ It is about time I was getting back to the station, 
I think,” he said, after a minute’s silence. 

“ I will walk with you.” 

“Many thanks,” and they sallied out together. 

“ You have a rich ward, have you not,” asked Mr. 
Tovey as they walked along. 

“Client,” amended Mr. Desborne, not inquiring of 
whom he spoke. 

“ Then why did you not ask her for money ; five per 
cent, would have been a cheaper rate for you, and a 
higher than she is probably receiving.” 

“No, she gets five per cent.” 

“ The deuce she does ; well you might have offered 
her six.” 

“ Do you suppose I would ask a client and a girl to 
advance me money ? ” 

“ I don’t see why you should not, all being fair and 
above-board.” 

“Well, I couldn’t, and if I were disposed to do a 
thing of the kind ” 

“ Your uncle might object.” 

“He would undoubtedly.” 

Mr. Tovey’s cigar had gone out. He stopped, 
struck a match and lighted it again. When it was 
glowing red he spoke once more, this time as if in so- 
liloquy. 

“Profitable business, wealthy clients, unmortgaged 
property, wife with settlement, rich uncle, where does 
the money go ? ” 

“ Did you speak to me? ” 

“ Yes ; where does the money go ? ” 

“I don’t know,” replied Mr. Desborne, inspired by 
some spirit of truth. 

“ But, my good sir, you ought to know. There is a 
leak in your ship, and if you don’t find out where it is 
and stop it, not only your ship will founder but all 


224 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


hands be lost. You set to work before it is too late. 
I have an interest in the ship now, so I must speak. 
Whatever the pleasant vice may be — dice, horses, wom- 
en, cards, the Stock Exchange — get it within reason- 
able bounds, and keep it there, or commercially sj^eak- 
ing, you are a dead man.” 

“Before Heaven,” said Mr. Desborne, with passion- 
ate energy, ‘ ‘ there is no vice. I do not gamble, or 
bet, or speculate. I have no separate establishment, 
and I am not extravagant.” 

“Then once more I ask, where does the money 
go ? ” 

Mr. Desborne was about to reply, when there came 
a wild rush, a shriek as of some lost spirit in des- 
pair, the grinding sound of a brake gripping the 
metals, and the London train steamed into Teddingtou 
Station. 

The usual Sunday night contingent was on the plat- 
form taking leave of friends hurrying to secure places. 
“ Take your seats ; take j^our seats, please,” cried the 
porters. “ Going on, sir ? ” asked the guard. “ Smok- 
ing carriage ? Yes, sir ; ” and Mr. Tovey was securely 
shut in and at liberty to devote all the power of his 
mind to the solution of that unanswered problem, 
“ Where does the money go ? ” 

“ At all events I shall get mine,” he reflected, “ and 
I told him the gospel truth. Yes, what I said was 
truth, if the devil spoke it ! ” 


I 


CHAPTER Xm 


WHEEE THE MONEY WENT. 

In the sad, cold twilight of a November morning, Mr. 
Desborne stood on the little landing stage, where Mr. 
Tovey had stood one night, looking at the Thames, 
swelled with recent rains, hurrying, hurrying away. 

As he stood, he thought of many things, and none 
of them pleasant. It was not the hour, the season, or 
the place for happy reverie. The leafless trees, the sod- 
den grass, the turbid water, the dull gray sky, unre- 
lieved by even the reflection of a rising sun, composed 
a picture which could but be considered unique in its 
melancholy depression. All around, nature seemed sob- 
bing like one broken-hearted — from every branch and 
twig, from every leaf of laurel and blade of grass, moist 
tears were falling. The long boughs of the weeping ash, 
the last survivor of four giants that had given the place 
its name, were dipping like whips into the river and 
troubling it. 

There was not a sound of human life, not a plash of 
oars, or cry, or whistle; the very birds were still. 
Nothing broke the stillness save the flow and jut of the 
water, and even that seemed more mournful accom- 
paniment to the song of silence than music made by 
itself. 

It was indeed as sad a scene as can well be conceived, 
and one which formed an appropriate setting to Mr. 
Desborne’s thoughts. He had slept badly ; night had 
reminded him of much which day would enable him to 
forget, but the spell of darkness still lay heavy upon 
his heart, and he was wondering, while “ weary and 


m 


THE BEAD OF THE FIRM. 


full of care ” he leaned over the water hurrying ever 
and ever onward to the sea, whether men have a right 
so to burden themselves, that when alone for a mo- 
ment they can think of nothing save money — how to 
get it, how best to dole it out among the largest num- 
ber of importunate persons, how to put off paying it, 
where to find more when the amount possessed — 
whether that amount be large or small — is spent. 

He had been going through all these exercises the 
while slumber refused to close his tired eyelids, and 
risen at the first streak of dawn, hoping with movement 
to disperse the phantoms which had kept watch around 
his bed. 

“A man has no right,” he mentally decided, “ so to 
swamp his life. He has but one to live ; the day he 
loses now can never come again — the spring, when he 
feels too sick at heart to dehght in the budding leaves 
and springing crocuses ; the summer, in which all its 
wealth of beauty appeals to his senses in vain ; the au- 
tumn, when the hanging fruit and glorious tints pass 
before his weary sight without refreshing it ; the win- 
ter, when the white snow, the hanging icicles, the frost- 
bound earth, bring no kindly message from his lost 
boyhood, no gracious memory of his happy youth, he 
has sold himself into a worse than Egyptian bondage ; 
but when a man has sold himself, when he has 
swamped his life, when he has bound himself to serve 
a god he hates, what is he to do ? What am I to do ? ” 

The hurrying river flowing swiftly gave no answer, 
the dripping trees only poured down their tears more 
abundantly, and his own heart sank low because it 
knew not how to offer advice of consolation. 

“ Where has the money gone ? where does it go ? ” 
he repeated to himself, which was indeed a most perti- 
nent question and one to which it behoved him to ob- 
tain an answer, because in the watches of the night he 
had parcelled out Mr. Tovey’s cheque, but to find the 
whole sum was a drop in the ocean of his debts. 

The remark that a man never feels himself so short 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


227 


of money as immediately after he has received a large 
amount may sound paradoxical, but most struggling 
men know it to be absolutely true. 

Ideal wealth is elastic, actual gold is confined with- 
in bounds and limits which cannot be passed. 

A banking account is one of the least sympathetic 
facts in modem life. To ordinary customers it says, 
“ Thus far shalt thou go and no further,” and to this 
decision it adheres with admirable tenacity. Precisely 
the same result ensues when a person elects to keep 
his money in a stocking. If he put only twenty sov- 
ereigns in, no known secret of alchemy will enable him 
to take more than twenty sovereigns out, and it is this 
inexpansive peculiarity of the precious metals which 
renders absolute contact with them so unsatisfac- 
tory. 

Those who wrote the fairy tales children old and 
young delight to read were aware of this idiosyncrasy, 
and got over the trouble by putting fancy into every 
casket, treasure-chest, and jewel-box. Thus the money 
never came to an end, and in like manner the wealth 
which is to be ours, but is not yet, seems inexhausti- 
ble and all powerful. 

Till Mr. Desborne received the produce of those ac- 
ceptances across which he had been solemnly warned 
lay the king’s highway to ruin, he could have sworn the 
amount would clear him of difficulty, make existence 
pleasant as it once had been, and endow even the rou- 
tine of business with a charm long unknown. 

Now, after a night spent in mentally counting it 
over, he felt he had miscalculated. The goodly cheque, 
which on the previous evening seemed to warm his 
heart, chilled it because, in addition to the accounts 
that money so painfully raised he could nob pa}’, he 
knew at the end of three months the sum itself would 
have to be refunded. 

And till then and after then how was he to go on ? 
It was easy to calculate the money likely to come in — : 
the money which possibly would come in — but \vhat 


228 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


arithmetical learning could tell the amount that might 
have to flow out ? 

How had he got into such a corner ? How was he to 
escape from it ? With an impatient sigh Mr. Desborne 
turned his eyes from the water, swept the horizon with 
one comprehensive glance, gazed wistfully at the op- 
posite bank, as though there lay the answer to his per- 
plexity, after which, with a slight shiver, he left the 
riverside and walked slowly back to his house, ponder- 
ing as he went the question Mr. Tovey had so plainly 
propounded. 

“ Where is the leak ? ” he said to himself taking out 
a small memorandum book and looking at some figures 
pencilled on one of the leaves, which proved conclu- 
sively where a great deal of the money went. “ Can I 
stop that? No. All lean do is to try and make a 
larger income. I have been indolent, indifferent ; I 
will see if I can’t put affairs to rights, because it seems 
vain to expect help from any other source — unless ” — 
but then he paused because of the thought which had 
come unbidden and made him hate himself. 

“ My uncle is right,” he considered, trying to kill the 
horrid idea and bury it forever far from mortal ken ; 
“ I ought to stick more to business. That is my first 
duty, and I will fulfil it. My wife and child are more 
to me than mankind. I must make money faster if 
only to meet these bills. I will turn over a new leaf, 
not to-morrow, or the to-morrow after, but to-day,” 
and involuntarily he quickened his pace as though he 
knew of some profitable matter waiting his return. 

When he entered the dining-room, however, it was 
empty — not there might be hope to find the nuggets 
his soul craved for. The only gold-field available for 
him was the city where hundreds and thousands as 
clever and more persevering than he was struggling, 
fighting, for even a few grains of the precious dust. 

It all came over him like a chill, cold wave that he 
had let his opportunity slip — that he had been too 
sure, too careless, too indolent. Not by such as he, 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


229 


not by such fits and starts bad the great Desborne busi- 
ness been made. The men who went before him had 
risen early, and late taken rest. AVest End drawing- 
rooms had seen little of them, and city ofiices much. 
They had considered solid success, not the vagaries of 
fashion. The}'’ had taken pleasure in their work and 
kept their money when they got it. They had gone in 
the morning to their day’s employment with quiet 
minds, and returned home at evening with consciences 
at ease. They did not run into debt and lie awake 
o’nights thinking how they could stave off creditors, 
from what source the wherewithal to tide over some 
threatened crisis might be obtained. 

He had done what that reverie at early dawn told 
him no man had a right to do, sold his future for no 
pleasure or comfort or profit, but only for loss and 
sorrow and misery. He had gone on and on, blindly 
believing that purchase money would never be paid, 
the harvest he had sown never be reaped, but now he 
could close his eyes to facts no longer : he might only 
be saved by a miracle, and that miracle must be 
wrought by himself. 

Was he strong and brave enough for such a fight 
against circumstances and his own nature ? 

That remained to be seen, meanwhile as a beginning 
of the ceremony he intended to practise as he walked 
along the straight and disagreeable road, henceforth to 
be travelled, he emptied his pockets of all the money 
they contained excepting a few shillings, and thus im- 
poverished, set out after breakfast for London. 

Arrived at Waterloo, he modestly climbed to the 
top of an omnibus which set him down at the Stores 
in Queen Victoria Street, whence he pursued his way 
to Cloak Lane, taking no notice of any crossing sweeper 
and giving to no beggar as he went. 

Quite a new experience for the kindly gentleman, 
but one which filled him with a dangerous feeling of 
virtue and self-denial. 

As the day went on, his doubts vanished and he be- 


230 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


I 


gan to look more hopefully on his position. He did 
not go out until nearly two o’clock. 

He was happily in his office when a new client called, 
who brought some good business. He summoned up 
sufficient resolution to absent himself from a meeting 
where measures were to be discussed for sending relief 
to the distressed inhabitants of a very distant countiy. 
He dismissed a gentleman who called to solicit alms 
for some deserving protege with a trifling contribu- 
tion ; he declined to see several strangers who refused ' 
to send in their names or state their business ; he even i 
proved inaccessible to a “ sister ” whose pleadings he 
knew he could not withstand if he allowed her to ap- 
pear before him and conduct her own case. Alto- 
gether it may safely be said he had never mortified ’ 
himself and others so much in the course of any pre- j 
vious morning, and when he went out to cash Mr. I 
Tovey’s cheque it was with the firm conviction that if J 
the signs of being on the right path are rough stones, I 
sharp thorns, and everything disagreeable that can be j| 
imagined, he was at last surely travelliug in a safe 
direction. 

He took train at the Mansion House Station for St. j 
James’s Park, whence he walked across a bit of fashion- 
able country to Mr. Tovey’s bank. Jj 

“How will you take it?” asked the cashier, when l| 
Mr. Desborne presented that gentleman’s cheque. ^ 

No unpleasant “referring back,” or hesitating, or ^ 
looking twice at the simple slip of paper, or going S 
through any one of the forms which proves too surely ji 
that a customer’s account is either insignificant or | 
doubtful. J 

Nothing doubtful about Mr. Tovey’s lordly order to « 
pay Edward Desborne, Esq., who answered “ Short ” | 
in a tone that showed he had been accustomed to re- fj 
ceive the proceeds of many large cheques, even though t; 
unaware of the legitimate manner in which to accept J 

a bill. ^ I 

It occupied a couple of minutes to enter the notes ; S| 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


231 


then they were pushed across the counter to Mr. Des- 
borne, who, after counting, placed them in his pocket- 
book and said, “ Thank you ; good afternoon,” and 
departed. 

Just as he left the bank a particularly wretched-look- 
ing woman asked him for alms in God’s name. 

In a moment all Mr. Desborne’s resolutions w^ere 
swept away. Should he, who had been helped, it 
seemed to him then, almost miraculously, refuse to 
help another? Should he, who was going to turn over 
a new leaf and try to make such a good thing of life, 
remain deaf to an appeal which might mean the turn- 
ing over, instead of leaving unturned, of a new leaf in 
I the experience of some one else. No, he could not. 

! He felt as many a woman feels when leaving a con- 

! fectioner*s shop she sees a group of poor children 

flattening their noses against the window, only more 
\ surely, that he who has received ought to distribute. 

It was a joy to be satisfied once again that charity 
might be deemed not merely a harmless gratification, 

! but an absolute duty. 

It was not his part to decide whether the suppliant 
had been worn to a skeleton by disease or dissipation ; 
whether those deep lines across her forehead were 
graven by trouble or remorse ; whether all color had 
i been taken from her cheeks by long vigils or gin. 

I Hers was the blame if she asked unworthily. His 
would be the blame if he condemned, knowing nothing 
of her past, and therefore ere he turned away, she was 
the richer and he the poorer by two and sixpence. 

Not a matter of much consequence, perhaps, save for 
this — that barriers are easily broken down, and no 
known method of division can extract more than eight 
half crowns out of a sovereign. 

Directly Mr. Desborne parted from the woman, he 
bethought him it was unwise to walk through the 
streets with such a sum of money about his person, and 
the usual result followed. 

If his former small extravagance had donned the 


2S2 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


mask of charity, this expenditure assumed with equal 
ease that of prudence^ Another man in his position, if 
wise, would have buttoned up his coat and returned 
by the way he came, to St James’s Park Station. Not 
so Mr. Desborne, to hail a hansom, jump into it, say- 
ing Eoyal Exchange, and to be off as fast as a good 
horse could go, seemed to him the natural way to save 
both time and money. 

When he reached the city he did not pay the driver 
his strict fare, that had never been Mr. Desborne’s 
way. . Excuses for liberality were always easy to find. 
Either the w’eather was hot or cold, or the horse good 
or worn out, or the man cheerful-looking or miserable 
— no matter what the state of man, horse, or weather, 
Mr. Desborne was sure to find some reason why his 
purse should pay tribute. 

He told Mr. Tovey the simple truth ; he had no 
personal vice, as the world and religion account vice. 
Further, he had no personal extravagance. He ate and 
drank and dressed plainly ; yet money sifted through 
his fingers like sand. 

He could deny himself, but he could not deny 
others ; and it was for this reason probably that some 
persons thought him prodigal. 

For this reason, certainly he was prodigal, and when, 
after paying the cabman and banking the proceeds of 
Mr. Tovey’s cheque, he found himself walking down 
Abchurch Lane, this conviction pressed home. He 
began to feel doubtful about many things, and to con- 
sider that he must keep a stricter w^atch over his ex- 
penditure than ever, limiting the silver in his pocket 
to a certain sum per diem could maintain. 

He would not be profuse, he would not even be or- 
dinarily liberal till times improved and things were 
very different Yet, such a case as that of the poor 
woman — what could he do ? How could he stand coolly 
by and see the horse starve while the grass, his grass, 
was growdng ? 

He could not do it, but he could do other things. 


THE HEAD QP THE PIMM. 


233 


He could devote himself more to business and make a 
larger income and refrain from subscribing to every 
charity, and be most economical, and spend the days 
to come as he had spent that day, in a manner as ex- 
emplary, as disagreeable. 

When he entered his office he found Mr. Thomas 
Desborne writing busily. 

“I do wish, Edward,” said that gentleman, suspend- 
ing his employment for a moment, “ when you intend 
to absent yourself for hours, you would mention the 
fact. We have not such an enormous number of 
clients we can afford to offend any of them.” 

Now, this speech seemed hard to Mr. Edward Des- 
borne, whether addressed to him in his true capacity 
as Head of the Firm, or in his new character of Ee- 
pentant Prodigal. He had that morning refrained 
from indiscriminate lounging, he had remained at his 
post till nearly two o’clock, not even going out for 
luncheon, he had hurried to the West End, and driven 
back rapidly to the city, he had not stopped to talk 
with anyone, but hastened from his bank to Cloak Lane 
only to be received with a rebuke. Verily, the straight 
and narrow business path was not a pleasant one ! At 
that moment he felt it was very much the reverse. 

But he had a sweet temper. It was not his way at 
any time to return that sharp answer which breeds 
strife, and he was not going to answer sharply now 
and so spoil all his good resolutions with a bad deed. 
He loved his uncle, and he owed him much, more than 
he could ever repay, and that afternoon there seemed 
a heavier debt on his conscience than usual, caused, 
perhaps, by something Mr. Tovey had said, and that 
he knew he himself had thought, for all of which rea- 
sons he replied, without any trace of irritation in voice 
or manner : 

“ I will tell you for the future. I am very sorry I 
never thought of doing so to-day. Have you been 
wanting me ? ” 

“ Mr. Gallett has. He came directly after you went 


234 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


out, and left word he would call again. He did call 
again about half an hour ago, and when he heard you 
had not returned went away in a towering rage.” 

“ You did not see him then ? ” 

“ No, unfortunatel}’, I have only just returned from 
my appointment in Garden Court. Knevitt also was 
out, no one was in fact in except Tripsdale.” 

“ I wonder what Gallett wanted ? ” 

“ Perhaps something, perhaps nothing, but whether 
or no, I am sorry this matter should have happened, 
because he has influence.” 

“ He has, and will exert it according to the tem- 
per he is in. I did not go out till two o’clock. I have 
not even had any luncheon, was too busy to think of 
any. I will send Gallett a note ; no, I will go round 
and see him, that is the best thing to do,” and before 
his uncle could say “ yes ” or “ no ” Mr. Edward Des- 
borne had departed. The junior partner felt some- 
what disconcerted. His ideas had been shaped after 
good old-fashioned patterns, in vogue at the time when 
Desbornes’ house had the field comparatively to itself, 
when there was no “going to and fro upon this earth,” 
at least in business hours, in the city, when Desbornes’ 
had many clients and many partners to see those 
clients, and when one of those partners would as soon 
have thought of dancing on the tight rope as of run- 
ning round to the warehouse of a man perfectly well 
able to walk to Messrs. Desbornes’ office, and consult 
any member of the then firm, who might, in a digni- 
fied way, chance to be at leisure, and willing to grant 
him an interview. 

Desbornes’ in truth had once upon a time carried 
matters with a very high hand, and the spiiit and the 
fragrance of that long-ago past still animated and 
hung around one at least of the partners, who, though 
he wished by all honorable means to attract and retain 
fresh business, did not like the notion of any member 
of the firm being at the beck of Dick, Tom, and Harry, 
and running like a lackey through the city after them. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


235 


Before be bad settled tbe question satisfactorily, bis 
nepbew was back again looking handsome and pleas- 
ant enough to gladden any uncle’s heart. When Ed- 
ward Desborne once took a matter in hand he never 
* let the grass grow under his feet. That, at least, 

I could be said about him ; the trouble was, however, to 
get a matter taken up. If he could hand it over to 
I his uncle, or Mr. Kuevitt, or Mr. Puckle, he was only 
! too ready to do so, and Mr. Thomas Desborne, as 
he lifted his eyes to that clever eager face all aglow 
I with excitement, felt ready to forgive any lack of 
I dignity for the sake of such unwonted attention to 
I business. 

“ Did you see him ? ” asked the elder man, meaning 
' Mr. Gallett. 

“ Yes, I was in the very nick of time, found him in 
the deuce of a temper locking up his safe and prepar- 
^ ing to go home. The clerk, it was plain to see, did 
; not want to admit me, but I walked past him, and in 
I two minutes all was right.” 
i “ What did he want ? ” 

“His son-in-law is going to turn his concern into a 
f limited liability company, and he wished to know if 
I we would act as solicitors.” 

“ Oh ! and you ? ” 

I “ I said that though w'e did not care for that sort of 
\ thing as a rule, we felt so satisfied concerning Mr. 
Evelington, his grease, and his father-in-law, we would 
go into the affair with pleasure.” 

“ You did not word your acquiescence to him pre- 
cisely as you have done to me, I conclude.” 

“ Of course not. I went into the matter with so 
much gravity of manner and in such a spirit of sym- 
pathy that I gathered this Evelington Company, 
Limited, is intended to be buf the forerunner of 
changes mightier still. Gallett’s Soap Works will 
soon, if I mistake not, be transformed into Gallett, 
Limited — quite a private affair, all shares being taken 
up by the family.” 


236 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


‘‘This is indeed a transformation scene,” commented 
Mr. Thomas Desboriie. “ I wonder what it means.” 

“It means,” returned his nephew, gayly, “that, as 
Mr. Gallett himself observes, times are changed, sir, 
and we must change with them. Our grandfather 
marched to one tune, but we must march to another, 
if we would not be left hopelessly behind.” 

“ Did Gallett say that ? ” 

“He did, indeed. I have neither added to nor 
taken from what he evidently considered his very orig- 
inal remark. He was in an exceedingly talkative 
mood, and if he had not been hurrying to meet Evel- 
ington I might have heard much more. As it was I 
learnt he has it in his mind to sell that nice old place 
of his — the house and grounds for an asylum and the 
land for building.” 

“ Dear me ! ” sighed Mr. Thomas Desborne. “ That 
place has belonged to the Gallett family for over a 
century.” 

“ So the old sinner told me. He was affected about 
the matter almost to tears, but then he had been lunch- 
ing with Evelington.” 

“And to think of turning his business into a com- 
pany ! It is as bad almost as hearing of Desbornes’, 
Limited ! ” 

In his heart Mr. Edward Desborne felt -that would 
be rather a good hearing if money were likely to come 
out of it, but he only said : 

“ Lawyers have not got to such a pass yet, and I do 
not suppose they will in our time.” 

“ I earnestly trust not. Still, things are changing so 
fast there is no telling what may happen. Mr. Gallett 
is quite right when he says we are marching to a dif- 
ferent tune from that our ancestors kept step to. To 
my mind, the old tune was the best, however.” 

“It was the best, anyhow,” agreed the Head of the 
Firm, thinking of those prosperous days when a part- 
ner in Desbornes’ was considered a sort of Croesus. 

“ Come upstairs, Ned, and have a cup of tea,” sug- 


.TUB READ OP THE FIRM. 


287 


gested Mr. Thomas Desborne, laying his hand affec- 
I tionately on the younger man’s shoulder. “ It is a bad 
I thing to fast so long. Why did you not go out and 
I have some luncheon ? ” 

I ^ I was too busy for one thing, and for another I felt 
i in a working humor, and knew if I went to my usual 
place I should meet somebody who would detain 
me.” 

“ But surely you need not have gone to your usual 
place?” 

I “No, but wherever I go I am sure to meet some 
[ person I do not want to meet.” 

“ What sort of person ? ” 

I “ Oh, the man who asks one for a subscription, or 
to get up a subscription, or to take up a case, or give 
' a letter for an hospital, or interest one’s self about an 
orphan lad, or a widow, or a deaf-mute.’* 

' “Poor Ned.” 

; “ Well, I need not tell you, uncle, I like to give, and 

I I am willing to help, but giving takes money and help- 
I ing takes time.” 

“ Undoubtedly ; but since when, may I ask, have 
your eyes been opened to these facts?” 

“ Since yesterday, I believe ; at all events, I had a 
long think this morning over the question, and I made 
up my mind to follow your advice and stick better to 
business.” 

“ I am very glad to hear you say so.” 

“ Yes, and I mean to stick to business. I want to 
make money — a lot of money.” 

“ You are not singular in that desire.” 

“Hitherto I have not taken the best means to com- 
pass it, though.” 

“You have not; it is never too late to mend, how- 
ever.” 

Mr. Edward Desborne remained silent. If he had 
entertained any hope that his uncle would ask why he 
wanted money so badly, and, as on many previous oc- 
casions, suggest presenting him with a cheque, he was 


S38 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM . . 


doomed to disappointment. Mr. Thomas Desborne 
was a careful and by no means impulsive man, and it 
was not in his mind to present any more cheques to 
any one, unless he saw that very good results were 
likely to come about from doing so. 

“ It takes such a lot of money to get on nowadays,” 
resumed his nephew, after a pause. 

“ So I am told — often,” answered Mr. Thomas Des- 
borne, drily, and there ensued another short silence, 
which was employed by the senior partner in looking 
out of the window, and broken by the appearance of 
tea. 

“ Will you have a chop, Ned ? ” asked Mr. Thomas 
Desborne. 

“ No, thank you,” answered his nephew, absently, 
still letting his eyes wander over the beauties of Cloak 
Lane. “I am sure you are right,” he went on sud- 
denly, “ the world went on better when men lived with 
their business.” 

“They can’t live with their business now,” was the 
quiet reply. 

“But you ” 

“ I am the exception which proves the rule. If I 
had a wife and family I could not live here. If I had 
a wife and family how could I afford the rent of any 
house in the city, where it would be possible to lodge 
a wife and family? ” 

“ Still you have always maintained that it is not well 
for a man to live very far from his business,” persisted 
the other. 

“ I always will maintain — you have no cream, Ned — 
I always will maintain it is not well for a man to live 
where he may be tempted to forget the fact that he has 
a business. If he will only keep that fact in his mind 
and remember he must attend to his business in order 
to maintain himself and family, I do not believe it mat- 
ters much where he lives.” 

“ I see.” 

“ The mischief nowadays is that business men not 




THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


239 


'i 

I 

i 

I 

1 

s 

i 


merely are tempted to forget their business but the 
debt of gratitude they owe to business, but they wish 
to forget — they are ashamed to acknowledge — they 
make their money in trade. In the young folks’ slang 
they try to cut the shop, and, as a natural consequence, 
the shop frequently cuts them. It was different once 
upon a time. A noierchant was proud of being a mer- 
chant, a shopkeeper of his well-filled shop, a ship-owner 
of his fleet df vessels, a goldsmith of his stock of mag- 
nificent goods, a solicitor ’* 

“ Yes, uncle. A solicitor ? ” 

“ Of his knowledge of law, the number of his cli- 
ents, his standing, the good opinion in which his fellow- 
citizens held him, the honorable position he filled, the 
posts to which he might aspire, these were all legiti- 
mate subjects for pride, laudable objects of ambition, 
much more legitimate and laudable than ” 

“ Will you not finish your sentence ? ’* 

‘‘I think not, Ned ; the theme ran away with me 
or I might never have said so much.” 

“ I am glad you did. I know pretty well what you 
were going to add, and can find the sentence for my- 
self.” 

“ Have another cup of tea ? ” 

“ Thank you, I will. I never get such good tea any- 
where else.” 

“ You never get good tea made so well anywhere 
else. Is not that it rather ? ” 

“ Perhaps it may be.” 

“I am giving Miss Fermoy a series of lessons in tea- 
making, so that when she marries her husband may 
find he has wedded a past-mistress in the art.” 

“ Do you think she will marry ? ” 

“I hope so. One day, and — well.” 

“ Does she see much of young Vernham ? ” 

“ She sees nothing.” 

“No?” 

“ The offer she made him put an effectual stop to 
the familiar intimacy of old.” 


24:0 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ What offer ? ” 

“ Of half her fortune.” 

“ You do not mean that.” 

“ That is precisely what I do mean.” 

“ Did Miss Fermoy tell you ? ” 

“ No, but Vernham did.” 

“ He refused? ” 

“ Of course.” 

“ But why should such a suggestion have changed 
their former attitude ? She did not propose that she 
should go with the money, I conclude.” 

“Nothing was farther from her thoughts. He 
showed me her letter, and a simpler, more innocent, 
more womanly letter I never read.” 

“ Half her fortune, only think of such a thing ! ” 

“Yes, only think of it.” 

“Still, I cannot understand why so generous an 
offer should alienate two old friends, for they were old 
and good friends though not of the same rank.” 

“ I can understand. The mere fact of making such 
an offer raised her ; the mere fact of receiving such an 
offer pulled him down a little — in his own estimation.” 

“ You think that is the light in which he regards 
the affair?” 

“lam very certain that is the precise light in which 
he regards it.” 

“ Oh!” 

“ You see how utterly hopeless it would be to try to 
make up a match between them.” 

“Yet she is wonderfully improved — in manner and 
speech I mean.” 

“ By this time next year we shall see a greater im- 
provement still ; but, whatever improvement there may 
be, she will always remain to Mr. Vernham Timothy 
Fermoy’s daughter, the girl who sold vegetables in a 
lean-to shed at Battersea.” 

“ It is a pity.” 

“ But natural ; indeed, I confess I consider the 
young man’s mental attitude not merely natural but, 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


241 


after a fashion, worthy of praise. You see, money has 
placed the girl in his estimation on no higher a plat- 
form than she occupied before.” 

“ That is true ; still I feel sorry she has lost a friend.” 

She has not lost a friend. Were she poor or in 
trouble to-morrow the old relations between them 
would be re-established. There now, have I not given 
you something to think about?” 

“ You have, indeed. Half her fortune ! Yet it is 
just what we might have expected.” • 

‘‘From such a girl — yes.” 

Mr. Edward Desborne sipped his tea, which had 
grown quite cold, reflectively. Mr. Thomas Desborne 
crossed his legs and assumed a meditative attitude. 
Outside the November twilight was being slowly but 
surely chased by the shadows of coming night. Inside 
the fire burnt with sufficient brightness to make the 
room cheerful and homelike ; the clock on the mantle- 
piece ticked drowsily. Everything was so quiet the 
two men might have been shipwrecked mariners cast 
on a desert island, and the muffled roar of London 
traffic, which made itself heard even where they sat, 
the monotonous sound of the sea washing over a level 
and sandy beach. 

“ Ned,” It was Mr. Thomas Desborne who broke 
the spell of silence. 

“Yes, uncle.” 

“ I want to do something.” 

“Then why do you not do it? ” asked his nephew in 
surprise. 

“ I should not like to take a step of the sort with- 
out your consent.” 

Just for a moment it seemed to Mr. Edward Des- 
borne that his heart stood still. Were the gods in veiy 
truth deriding him ; had Fate chosen him for her sport 
then ? “ What is it ? ” he said, in a voice which seemed 

strange to him by reason of the blood rushing to his 
head, which seemed half to deafen him. “Are you 
contemplating marriage — or murder? ” 


242 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


‘‘ Marriage is not for me,” answered the elder man, 

“ and I have no desire to murder anyone ; but I should 
like, if you have no objection, to engage another 
clerk.” 

Mr. Edward Desborne felt in no mirthful mood, yet 
he broke into a laugh. It was the laugh of reaction, 
not of merriment, and seemed so uncalled for and 
sounded so strange that his uncle could but look 
amazed at so surprising a reception of his not very ex- 
traordinary remark. 

“What is amusing you, Ned ?” he inquired. 

“ I beg your pardon,” answered Ned, “ but it is such 
an anti-climax. Who could have supposed so porten- 
tous a beginning was to end only in a clerk ! ” 

His uncle made a gesture of impatience. “ Do you 
object to engaging another ? ” 

“ Object! my dear uncle, why should I object? Do 
I ever object to anything you propose ? Have another 
clerk, or a dozen if you see fit, for that matter, 
only ” 

“ Only what ? ” 

“Do you think work enough can be found to occupy 
him ? ” 

“I think work enough ought to be found.” 

“ Then have him by all means, whoever he may be.” 

“ Ned, Ned, I am speaking quite seriously.” ^ 

“ And so am I. The only part of the business I fail 
to grasp is how we are to find work for another clerk, 
unless we can set him, like a gentleman of very doubt- 
ful character, to spin ropes of the sea-sand.” 

“Adam Smith says,” observed Mr. Desborne, taking- 
no notice of this suggestion, “ ‘ A man grows rich by , 
employing a quantity of manufacturers, that is, artisans 
or clerks ; he grows poor by maintaining a multitude ' 

of menial servants His services (that is, the -« 

services of the menial servant) generally perish in the ; 
very instant of their performance and seldom leave 
any trace or value behind them, for which an equal ■ 
quantity of service could afterwards be procured. J 


THE HEAD OF' THE FIRM. 


243 


Now, I want you to lay the statement to heart ; for we 
have been economizing in our manufactory — Cloak 
Lane — in order to spend in York Terrace and at Ash- 
water.” 

“ Do you think I have been spending unduly, then ? ” 

“I make no accusation, Ned. All I want to point 
out is that in our case, where the largest outlay ought 
to be the smallest expenditure is found. We have 
been pursuing a wrong system, and I want, if possible, 
to begin on a right one ; therefore, as poor old Binning 
is now adrift, I will, with your permission, take him on 
here and see whether it be not possible to nurse this 
business once strong enough into a better state of 
health.” 

“ And I will help you, uncle, with heart and soul. I 
feel ashamed of myself. I vowed this morning that I 
would devote more time, more care, more thought to 
business, and I intend to keep that promise. You 
shall not have to reproach me with negligence again.” 

The head of the firm spoke in a tone of eager convic- 
tion, but IVIr. Thomas Desborne did not receive these 
assurances of amendment with any great enthusiasm. 
As a rule, outsiders do receive such assurances with a 
sort of modified belief and restrained pleasure which is 
the reverse of gratifying. Men’s expressed resolves 
and avowed intentions rarely strike the same chord in 
other breasts such resolves and avowed intentions 
awake in their own. The music of performance is that 
which friends and relatives value, perhaps unduly, and in- 
clined though he might be to hope, the wild strains Mr. 
Edward Desborne occasionally evoked out of the many 
excellent things he meant to do often failed to produce 
any effect, save that of sadness on his uncle’s calm and 
well-balanced mind. 

“ If you continue to devote yourself to business, Ned, 
as you have done to-day, we shall soon retrieve the 
past,” he said, trying to speak cheerily, for he did 
not wish to undervalue any effort in the way of im- 
provement. “I have never thought our position 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


244 

hopeless ; a little common-sense and a little application 
are all we want to enable ns to hold our own. In the 
face of so much opposition we cannot expect perhaps 
to regain altogether our old standing, but if we choose 
we may yet do very well — very well indeed.” 

“And we will,” finished his nephew, rising, “I must 
be off now, though I wish I could stay for hours, it is 
so pleasant here, but there are some things I must at- 
tend to at Teddington.” 

“ In that case I will try not to keep you,” said the 
elder man, a little wearily. “ Good-by for the present, 
and God bless you.” 

“ God bless you, uncle,” returned Mr. Edward Des- 
borne, with fervor, in spite of the load of care pressing 
him into the earth, in spite of the ugly thoughts which 
would now and then crop up in his mind. He did 
love his best earthjy friend most tenderly, and when 
he plunged from Cloak Lane into the deeper gloom of 
St. Thomas the Apostle, he heaved a deep sigh because 
he could not confide his troubles to the only man he 
believed could rid him of them. 

“ I must get out of the mess as best I can,” he 
thought, and full of this resolve he devoted himself af- 
ter dinner to the pressing question of his liabilities and 
the sum he had to pay them. 

Making a list of his debts, he decided, “I will 
send a cheque for so much to this man, and another 
for so much to that. A can w^ait a little, and so must 
B ; that account ought to be cleared off ; and in this 
•way he was plodding through a mass of bills, when, 
catching sight of a letter directed in Miss Simpson’s 
old-fashioned, lady-like hand, he thought he would 
rest himself by reading what she had to say. 

As it turned out, she had nothing to say ; the envel- 
ope merely contained some enclosures which fell to the 
carpet. Mr. Desborne picked them up and even while 
he did so a foreboding of evil made him turn cold. 

They were all from duns, and referred to debts he 
had never so much as heard of till that moment. 


TBB HEAD OE THE FIRM. 


245 


With a fainting heart he laid them flat on the blot- 
ting pad and looked at the sums stated to be owing, 
while the room seemed whirling round and whirling 
him with it. 

Pierre et Cie, court dressmakers ; Madame Sophie, a 
fashionable milliner ; Higliton, florist by appointment, 
&c., &c.; the more homely, but not much cheaper 
Budge, job-master, who supplied closed and open car- 
riages, victorias, broughams, and various other vehicles 
by the hour, day, or month, on “reasonable terms.” 

All this Mr. Desborne’s weary eyes took in. Only 
four accounts accompanied by a pressing request for 
settlement from each creditor — only four billa»— yet 
the sum total represented an amount nearly equal to 
that received by him earlier in the day across the 
counter of Mr. Tovey’s bank. 

“ Where does the money go ? ” that gentleman had 
asked, and Mr. Desborne answered “he did not know.” 

He knew now, however, for it was to Messrs. Pierre 
et Cie, Madame Sophie, and Messrs. Highton & Budge, 
butcher, baker, candlestick maker, exiles in Siberia, 
cannibals in Africa, starving Hindoos and ejected In- 
dians, to say nothing of English widows and orphans, 
English blind, deaf, lame, diseased, the money went ! 


CHAPTEK XVm. 


ME. PLASHET IS SUEPRISED. 

Even Mr. Tripsdale’s self-esteem was unable to blind 
him to the fact that his visit to Battersea had not 
proved a triumphant success. Indeed, as the ’bus he 
honored by patronizing pursued its slow but sure way 
toward Blackfriars, he was fain to admit his forced 
march from Field Prospect Road and abandonment of 
the stores and munitions of war to the enemy were 
painfully like a defeat. 

“ Hang it ! what was I to do ? ” he said, when fight- 
ing his battle over again after tea while seated by the 
firelight which stole tenderly over Gussy’s pale face, 
and played a ghostly game of hide-and-seek with shad- 
ows lurking in the dim corners and flitting noiselessly 
across the ceiling. “ I could of course have knocked 
the fellow into a cocked hat.” 

Mr. Tripsdale was to Thomas Connollan as David 
unto Goliath, but then to be sure David won the day in 
his encounter. “Still a row might have ended in the 
police court, and that was a thing not to be risked. 
Any shindy of the sort would play the deuce with me 
in Cloak Lane, and as for Miss Fermoy’s name being 
mixed up in a quarrel with such a lot as the Field 
Prospect gang, it is not to be thought of.” 

“You were wise not to fight,” replied his brother, 
looking straight into the burning coals and thinking 
perhaps that Miss Fermoy ought to be spared for the 
future all trouble and vexation, perhaps that the role of 
David was not one to be rashly assumed in modern 
times and by lawyers’ clerks. 


THE HEAD OP THE FIRM. 


247 


He had no doubt of Keginald’s courage — indeed, he 
knew him to be pugnacious as a bantam cock ; never- 
theless, discretion is more often than not the better part 
of valor, and a brawkwith their client’s connections 
would certainly not recommend itself to the Messrs. 
Desborne. 

“But you see that beggar got clear off with the five- 
pound note,” said Keginald. 

“ Yes, and you did not get the receipt.” 

“ I was in ten minds to go after him to the pub. and 
warn the proprietor not to let him have change.” 

“ It is far better that you did not.” 

“ I think so myself, still the question now arises. 
What ought I to do ? ” 

“ Get the receipt. ” 

“ All very fine, but if you saw the woman you’d know 
that to get anything from her was easier said than done, 
besides I have not the time. I can’t be dancing up and 
down to Battersea every ten minutes of the day. No, 
the best course will be to lay the state of the case be- 
fore Miss Fermoy and take her instructions.” 

“ I would do nothing of the kind. She has had 
bother enough,” said the pale young fellow, who was 
chivalrous as any knight of the round table. 

“ I’ll be sworn she has, but what other plan can I 
adopt ? ” 

“ Will you let me try if I can produce any impression 
on this terrible Mrs. Fermoy ? ” 

“ You, Gus, why she’d eat you up, body and bones,” 
said Reginald, in the compassionate tone a tender 
giant might employ if speaking to a small, fragile 
child. 

“ I don’t think she would ; at all events, let me go 
and see what luck I have. If you remember, in the 
old fairy tales, it was always some hop o’ my thumb 
who got the best of ogres and wicked witches and 
the like, and I fancy I might so talk to Mrs. Fermoy 
that she could be induced to act reasonably.” 

“ Could you induce a wild bull to listen to reason ? 


248 


TEE HEA D OF THE FIRM. 


No, Gus, you must not go near that dreadful woman, 
I should hate you to see her, even. If she — I mean, if 

she was in the same mood she was in this evening 

broke off Mr. Tripsdale with a sort of gulp leaving his 
intended sentences unfinished. 

“ I know what you were going to say, Eeggy,” an- 
swered his brother, taking Reginald’s hand and press- 
ing it affectionately. “ You think Mrs. Fermoy might 
call me a cripple and a hunchback and that I should 
feel hurt, but you are mistaken. There was a time 
when any boy in the street had power to vex me, 
when I thought if I could only find some place to hide 
myself I should be happy ; but that is all gone and 
past. If I had made myself what I am, perhaps I 
might feel differently, but ” 

“ Oh ! don’t go on, Gus ; I can’t bear it — I can’t, I 
can’t.” 

“ Not bear to hear I am happy, old fellow ; well, that 
is queer, too.” 

“I like to hear you are happy, but when I think of 
what 3^ou and I are — you so good and gentle and I such 
a firebrand, and then consider I never met wfith any 
accident, but was left to grow tall and straight, while 
you, who might have been taller and straighter — no, it 
breaks my heart. Gus, do you believe me — if I could 
take your burden to-night I would bear it cheerfully, 
thankfully— I would.” 

“ I know that, and far better than I have ever done. 
Who has carried all the heaviest part of our trouble ? 
You. Who w’^ent out in the heat and the snow that I 
might sit by the fire or keep cool in the shade ; who 
stinted himself in food to provide better fare for me, 
over which I often felt I should choke ? You. Who 
tried to keep all care from me, who, if he could have 
helped it, w^ould not have let even the winds of heaven 
blow on me ? You. Whose has preached silent ser- 
mons to me every day ? You. Whose love and patience 
and tenderness, greater than any woman’s, have turned 
any misfortune into a blessing for me ? You — you — 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


249 


you. Don’t try to speak, Reggy, for I know you can’t 
without making a baby of yourself and me.” 

Reginald Tripsdale did not speak, but he choked back 
something suspiciously like a sob, while his brother 
stroked the hand he held and sat thinking his own 
thoughts, which were not all pain, for if the story of 
their lives so far had been somewhat sad, it was full of 
beauty too, the beauty of self-reliance and self-denial, 
of resolute struggle, and beyond all — love. 

“ You will not refuse to give me pleasure,” went on 
Augustus you will let me go up to Battersea and 
fight this terrible dragon. I won’t chaff her as you 
did. Some people don’t understand chaff, but I will 
explain matters to her, and I should like, I cannot tell 
you how much, to do something for Miss Fermoy, for 
I am sure she is good.” 

“ She is, ’’agreed Reginald Tripsdale, audibly, adding 
to himself that surprising proof of goodness, “ She 
held her tongue.” 

If you have a fancy to go giant-killing,” he added, 
“ by all means take a run up to Battersea on Monday, 
but don’t blame me should you get the worst of the 
encounter. Now, shall we turn out for a stroll and try 
what Hoxton has to show us to-night.” 

“Yes, we have not been up there for some time,” 
answered Gus, with alacrity, for he understood his 
brother wanted to walk off the effects of their talk, and 
believed the naphtha lights, the cheap jacks, and other 
allurements of Hoxton were delightful antidotes to bad 
spirits, which indeed, was an article of faith with him- 
self. On how many nights, in what seemed to their 
youth, in the far long ago, had they not — anxious, cold, 
often hungry — sallied forth to one of those free enter- 
tainments and found in the show distraction from their 
cares, light, warmth, and food for thought. In their 
time they had patronized Portobello in the remote 
west, and Stratford in the far east, Lambeth Walk in 
the south, and Bitfield Street in the north, with many 
less important thoroughfares thrown in as make-weighi 


250 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


Wherever costermongers congregated and open-air 
meetings were held for the transaction of business or 
pleasure, or both, those lads had in their earlier days 
repaired at least on one night in the week, and as each 
district in London has its own particular humor and 
character, the Tripsdales could have claimed an almost 
exhaustive acquaintance with the peculiarities of every 
informal gathering in the way of an evening market 
round and about the metropolis. 

On the occasion of that especial stroll, however, the 
elder brother noticed that Begin aid took his amuse- 
ment sadly. He was not so quick as usual to catch 
the fun of the fair or so ready to laugh at it. The pat- 
ter of no medicine vender could provoke a smile, while 
he regarded the most impudent Cheap Jack with a 
scornful expression of broad disdain. “ The first indi- 
vidual,” he remarked, was “not a patch on the fellow 
at Stratford Bridge, while the man Gus must remem- 
ber selling little paraffin lamps in Lambeth Walk could 
but be considered worth a dozen of that donkey who 
was unable to palm off his wretched old umbrellas as 
new from the manufacturer.” 

“ We had better have a run down to Kingston,” he 
said at last.. “There is always diversion to be had \ 
there on a Saturday night.” 

“ If we go on to Dalston we can pick up something 
cheap for supper,” suggested Augustus, meeting the 
difficulty in a practical manner. 

“ Ay, let us go to Dalston. We can stroll along 
Kingsland Boad home,” agreed his brother with an air 
of gloomy resignation. 

“ He does not relish being beaten,” thought Gus, J 
which was indeed the precise cause of Mr. Beginald 
Tripsdale’s dissatisfaction. Then and there, had cir- i 
cumstances permitted, he would have liked to return 5 
to Battersea and demand — if needful at the sword’s | 
point, figuratively speaking — Mrs. Fermoy’s receipt or ^ 
Miss Fermoy’s five-pound note. J 

As this could not be, however, after they had made j 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


251 


their purchases in Dalston, he suddenly remembered 
what a dead-and-alive place Kingsland Road was. 
“ Why, the Commercial Road is liveliness itself by com- 
parison,” and proposed they should take rail to Shore-, 
ditch. 

“ Tell you what it is, Reggy,” said his brother ; ‘‘you 
want a good supper — half a pint of bitter and a pipe 
to bring you to your better self.” 

“ Perhaps I do,” answered the malcontent. “ I want 
something, at any rate, to take the taste of that old 
woman out of my mouth.” 

With a brave heart Augustus Tripsdale set out on 
Monday morning to face the foe. He walked with 
his brother to the bottom of Wallbrook, when the two 
parted company, one bending his steps office-wards, 
the other taking the shortest cut to old Swan Pier. 

“ After all,” remarked Reginald, “ there is nothing 
to beat the boat. By the time you have walked across 
Southwark or Blackfriars Bridge and waited for a ’bus, 
you’d be nearly at Lambeth, and the same if you try 
the train. The boat is far and away the best and quick- 
est travelling, and the cheapest too.” In consequence 
of which reasoning, Augustus Tripsdale, who at first 
inclined to take train at Cannon Street for Waterloo and 
again at Waterloo at Clapham Junction, hurried across 
Upper Thames Street and reached the landing stage 
just as a boat was about to cast off. 

“Come along,” said the man at the gangway, and 
the young fellow stepped aboard with that sense of ex- 
hilaration which seems so unreasonable, yet is so uni- 
versal, that ensues when people manage to catch a 
train, or not to miss a train, by what Mr. Reginald 
Tripsdale called “the skin of the teeth.” 

With the pleasant glow of having somehow done a 
clever thing, Augustus selected a seat and gave himself 
up to the happiness of a fine September morning on 
the river. In the air there was the keen crisp fresh- 
ness, not merely of autumn but of the early day. Lon- 
don looked its best and brightest, the tide was with 


252 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


them, and barges laden with hay were going up 
stream joyously, and making charming touches of 
color, and pictures on which one passenger, at all 
events, could feast his eyes. Past Somerset House and 
Adelphi Terrace ; past the Embankment Gardens and 
the Houses of Parliament ; past old Lambeth with the 
Archbishop’s Palace, and St. Mary’s Church ; past 
Chelsea and across to Battersea Park ; a delightful trip 
thought the young man as he walked ashore and bent 
his steps in the direction of Field Prospect Koad. 

Battersea seemed to him very quiet ; as w^ell it might, 
for the place was on its best behavior. There are some 
suburbs who do not wash. on Monday. Battersea is 
one of tliem. It is a neighborhood which requires a 
good deal of rest after the fatigue of Sunday, when 
dinners have to be cooked, toilets made, visits received 
and visits paid, when if people do not go to Church 
they tire themselves in other ways, when they spend a 
considerable amount of money, and after many hours 
devoted to the rites of hospitality, retire to bed only 
to awake the next morning with a dull sense of de- 
pression and a feeling of lively resentment that another 
hard week has come, which must be faced and fought 
through somehow. 

The children w^ere at school, and most of the men, 
driven by what they considered a cruel necessity, had 
gone to work. Those who were in a position to keep 
Saint Monday holy were worshipping, each in his favor- 
ite public-house, though a few women with arms 
akimbo, or hands and wrists wrapped up in their aprons, 
were gossiping at their doors. As a rule the. female 
population was engaged in that, to masculine under- 
standings, mysterious and unsatisfactory business 
“ clearing up.” 

Mrs. Fermoy was “ clearing up.” Being a lady who, 
as she boasted, never did anything by halves, she had 
risen early and literally turned the house out of doors. 
Mrs. Perkyn’s rooms formed the principal basis of her 
operations, and after having black-leaded and broomed 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


253 


and scrubbed like a “heathen-nigger,” she was en- 
gaged wlien Augustus Tripsdale knocked at her door 
in cleaning the right-hand window on the ground 
floor, with w'hich any one who watclied the vigor of 
her attack might have supposed she had a life-long 
feud. 

“ Now, then, what may you want, young man ? ” she 
asked, pausing in her occupation and addressing the 
“ young man ” from a temporary seat on the sill. 

“ Is Mrs. Fermoy in ? ” 

“Indeed she is. lam Mrs. Fermoy, worse luck.” 

The visitor thought it was very bad luck indeed. He 
had been prepared for a good deal, but an irate indi- 
vidual who snapped him up without the smallest provo- 
cation, who turned a face smeared with black-lead 
toward him, who had tied her head up in an old 
checked duster, who never moved from her perch on 
the sill, who banged the glass as if it were a dusty 
mat, was an adversary beyond his worst expectation. 
He did not lose courage, however. If he said what he 
had to say civilly he might soothe even this savage 
beast. 

“I am sorry to come just when you are so busy,” he 
began. 

“ I don’t know when you could come that I wasn’t 
busy,” she answered, with a short laugh. “ When 
there’s only one pair of hands to do the work of a house 
like this some one must be busy.” 

“That is very true,” said young Tripsdale, weakly. 

“It is so true that I’ll thank you to mention your 
business and take yourself off. I have something else 
to do than waste my time on canvassers and such like. 
If you want to sell I don’t want to buy, and that is 
flat.” 

“ I am not a canvasser, and I do not want you to buy 
anything. I have only called to ask you to be kind 
enough to give me the receipt a person left for you to 
sign on Saturday evening last.” 

“ What receipt ? what person ? ” 


254 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“The person who brought you five pounds from 
Miss Fermoy, for which he ought to have taken a re- 
ceipt at the time.” 

“ And why didn’t he ? ” 

“Because you would not give it to him.” 

“And I am not going to give it you. If Miss Fer- 
moy,” with withering sarcasm, “ wants a receipt she 
may come for it herself. How do I know who that 
impudent jackanapes with as much brass about him as 
an Old Bailey lawyer who bounced down here on 
Saturday was, or who you are either, for the matter of 
that ? ” 

“You know he brought you a five-pound note, at all 
events.” 

“I know nothing of the kind. He made such a to- 
do about the receipt and put my head in such a whirl, 
it may have been anything. Anyhow, I had no good 
of the money, if it was money. My son whisked it 
out of my sight, and, as if that w’as not enough, you 
must now come when I am worried out of my senses 
asking for a receipt, indeed.” 

“ I am obliged to ask for a receipt.” 

“What! for money I never had? That is a good 
one, too,” and Mrs. Fermoy was so much amused she 
felt constrained to take up her wet cloth and dab the 
window aU over in a severe and uncompromising 
manner. 

“ I suppose the money did not go out of the family, 
however,” persisted the young fellow. 

“Whether it did or not is none of your business.” 

“It is my business, and I mean to make it mine. My 
brother has to send the receipt to Miss Fermoy, and 
I have come a long way this morning to get it for 
him.” 

“ Oh ! he’s your brother is he ? Well, I might have 
guessed that, for he’s not much to look at any more 
than yourself.” 

“ Will you kindly give me the receipt, Mrs. Fermoy, 
and let me go ? ” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


255 


I’m not hindering you going, but as for the receipt 
you’ll get none from me.” 

“Is that your last word?” 

“ About the receipt — yes. I may have many words 
to say you won’t like to hear, if you stand there much 
longer.” 

“ There will be no course, then, open for my brother 
but to stop payment of the note. He has the number ; 
if he goes to the bank you will find the result very 
disagreeable.” 

Before Augustus Tripsdale had finished his sentence 
Mrs. Fermoy flung wide the sash and disappeared 
witbin the room, only to reappear at the door, which 
she tore open with a violence that threatened to break 
the lock. 

“ What do you mean, you upsetting atom of de- 
formity,” she cried, “ coming here threatening a woman 
who has lived respectable and respected, and is known 
to be correct and honest, which is more than 3'ou 
could say. Just let me catch you playing any tricks 
with that note which my stepdaughter sent me in part 
payment of the long bill I have against her for board 
and lodging. Just let me catch you ! It would be the 
worst day’s work you ever did ; my son’s a man as will 
stand no nonsense. He’s one as keeps himself to him- 
self, and lets alone when he’s let alone ; but when once 
he’s roused he’s like a caged lion, and he would think 
as little of giving you another ’twist as I would think 
of wringing out my dish cloth. Be off, now, and never 
let me see your face again.” 

“ You need not be afraid, Mrs. Fermoy, you never, 
I hope, will see my face again, or I yours. There is 
one thing I have to say, however ” 

“ Don’t say it, then, I warn you. If it wasn’t that 
you’re not just like other people, and perhaps can no 
more help the crook in your mind than the crook 
in 3wr back, I wouldn’t have put up with you so 
long.’' 

“Whatever I may be,” answered the lad, “you had 


256 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


better hear what I have to say. Miss Fermoy wants to 
pay you £5 a week, and get a proper receipt for that 
amount. If you won’t give a proper receipt, that is 
your affair, but we will part with no more money with- 
out an acknow’ledgment. The weekly £5 will there- 
fore be sent to 3 "ou in a form which you must sign.” 

“ We’ll see about that ; nothing will be signed by 
me.” 

“Then you won’t get the money,” retorted her 
visitor with a decision which produced its effect even 
on Mrs. Fermoy, and left her speechless till young 
Tripsdale had got too far away to hear more than an 
echo of the insulting retort she hurled after him. 

That day the window in Mr. Parkyn’s room was not 
cleaned so well as it might have been. There were 
long smears on the glass, and also a general cloudi- 
ness, which Mrs. Fermoy, had she noticed, would have 
attributed to the water having been left to dry, when 
she was so “ put about by that cripple’s sauce.” 

But in truth, she did not notice. She finished up her 
work all in a hurry and mechanically, giving no thought 
to what she was doing, save that it had to be done, 
and got over it as soon as possible. 

For once in her life she began to think it might 
have been wise not to let her temper run so far and so 
fast. “ If he had not begun about that receipt all 
would have been w’ell,” she decided “I’d have asked 
him in and spoke him fair, and got to know what I want 
about Aileen. He was not so uppish as the other one, 
and maybe I did take him up a bit too short. I wonder 
whether it was true what he said about sending me 
five pounds a week. If it is, I ought to know how the 
girl is getting it ; money is not lying in the gutters for 
any one to pick up nowadays.” 

She was standing in the kitchen looking at a sover- 
eign and a handful of silver as this truth dawned upon 
her. Not a sound broke the stillness, save the crackling' 
of some wood she had thrust into the grate. For once 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


257 


Bertie and Minnie were conspicuous by their absence. 
All her sons were out. She had the house to herself, 
and something in its silence knocked at the door of 
her conscience, and woke unaccustomed echoes that 
sounded weird and unpleasant. 

“If any harm has come to the girl,” she thought, 
“but what harm could come to her, still how does she 
get five-pound notes and people to run her errands ? ” 

Mrs. Fermoy in her perplexity went to the front door, 
and looked up and down the street, but no one ap- 
peared in sight. The whole place was terribly lonely. 
She walked as far as the shed, which was securely pad- 
locked, then round to the empty stable, which was 
padlocked also. 

“ I can’t make it out,” she soliloquized. “ Why Aileen 
should leave her happy home and good business, and 
desert me who had always her good at heart, is a mys- 
tery, and one I don’t like. Trying to buy me off has a 
bad look. I’ll never know a minute’s peace till I’ve 
found her, and find her I will if I have to tramp Lon- 
don over. If she’s doing nothing wrong why would she 
keep such a friend as I’ve been at arm’s length.” 

Utterly unable to answer this self-propounded query, 
Mrs. Fermoy, after a fashion quite crest-fallen, returned 
to the kitchen and began peeling potatoes for dinner. 

While she was so engaged, Minnie and Bertie rushed 
in, and before the vegetables were ready to put on the 
fire had so misbehaved themselves that Mrs. Fermoy’s 
reflections were speedily turned into a different chan- 
nel. 

“I’ll speak to your father about sending you to 
school,” she exclaimed. “ I have so much on my mind 
already I can’t put up with you. What with one thing 
and with another, I wonder I’m not in Hanwell.” 

“ That is where Dickey Strange says you ought to 
be,” returned Bertie with that sweet simplicity which 
conceives a disagreeable truth to be immeasurably 
superior to politeness. 

“ I’ll Dickie Strange you,” cried Mrs. Farmoy, point- 


258 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


iiig her threat with a sound cuff. “ Just let me see 
you so much as speaking to him again, that’s all. Get 
along both of you, and don’t dare to put your noses 
inside the door till dinner-time.” 

When dinner-time came, by one consent all the Con- 
nollans, old and young, streamed into the maternal 
mansion. Tom sulky, because his mother had regained 
possession of £2 odd by the simple flank movement of 
turning out his pocket while he slept. Dick lounged 
in hungry and morose. Peter, who had obtained tem- 
porary employment near at hand, was in better case, 
while Jack, though under a ban for having taken ser- 
vice with “ that underhand woman,” Mrs. Stenbridge, 
was tacitly recognized as a person to be thought of, 
because in the receipt of regular wages. 

Peter, though older, being in less afiluent circum- 
stances, was despatched for beer, and after Minnie and 
Bertie had been placed at cross corners of the table so i 
as to insure better behavior, the entertainment pro- 
ceeded. ; 

Secrecy in that house, save concerning some purely • 
personal and selfish matter, was a thing unknown, and 
accordingly, even while carving, Mrs. Fermoy began to \ 
discourse about the “ mis-shapen young man ” who I 
had called that morning. : 

“ What did he want ? ” asked Mr. Connollan, helping j 
himself to mustard. " 

“ He wanted that receipt.” ; 

And you gave it to him ? ” i 

“ Indeed I didn’t. I told him I had no good of the ^ 
money and he’d get no receipt from me.” ^ 

“ What did he think of that ? ” asked Peter, anxious | 
to be agreeable. ^ 

“ I don’t know what he thought, but he threatened j 
to stop payment of the note.” | 

“ Oh ! I dare say,” commented Mr. Connollan with a 9 
mocking sneer which could not conceal his conviction i 
that such an awkward course might be taken. | 

“He swore nobody was going to beat him,” pro- I 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 259 

ceeded Mrs. Fermoy, enjoying her son’s evident uneasi- 
ness. 

“ Who wants to beat him ? ” 

“ I suppose he thinks you do.” 

“ Why the mischief couldn’t you give him the receipt 
if he wanted it ? ” 

“ Just because I didn’t choose.” 

“ Were you able to find out where Aileen is gone,” 
asked Mr. Connollan, warned by his mother’s tone it 
might be prudent to change the conversation. 

“ No ! I didn’t try.” 

“If you had, I suppose you wouldn’t have got much 
further forward.” 

Mrs. Fermoy did not think fit to answer this taunt. 
Instead she turned to Jack and asked : 

“ Who were those young sparks you said something 
about Ally carrying on with ? ” 

“They were not young sparks, and Ally did not 
carry on with them,” answered the lad. 

“ Well, what was it you told me ?” 

“ I told you that on Whit-Tuesday three men who 
were dotty, carried her basket to the cart — that was all,” 
replied Jack, repenting him of his misplaced confidence. 

“ And one of them had a white hat ? ” 

“ Yes, his hat was white.” 

“I thought so,” observed Mrs. Fermoy, with an 
oracular nod. 

“ Keep your spoon out of the sugar ! Who do you 
suppose is going to eat after you,” here interrupted 
Dick, addressing Minnie, who in the most artless way 
imaginable, was administering to her own wants with- 
out the slightest regard for the absurd prejudices of 
other people. 

‘‘ In such families a slight matter suffices to shunt 
the conversational train on to a different line of rail, 
and this remark of Dick’s reversed the points so imme- 
diately that before a second had elapsed the whole of 
the Connollans were wrangling in the most virulent 
manner over the Bertie and Minnie question. 


260 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“Mrs. Fermoy declared they must go to school. Mr. 
Connollan retorted that it would be time euough to 
think of that in two or three years. Dick said what 
the children wanted was a good hiding, which he 
would give them for two pins. Peter stated that to his 
certain knowledge they were “ wanted ” for throwing 
stones, while Jack capped up the list of sins by afiSrm- 
ing they were the worst pair in Battersea, and could 
keep their hands off nothing. 

“ They take after their father in that,” said Mrs. 
Fermoy, an unkindly reminder of Saturday evening’s 
exploit. 

Not forgetful of the measure meted out to him on a 
similar occasion, Dick grinned, while Peter, keenly 
alive to the humors of the situation, laughed aloud. 
Even Jack smiled, and Tom waxed so wroth that, fling- 
ing down his knife and fork, he rose, and declaring 
passionately, “I can stand this house no longer,” took 
his cap and left the table, pursued by a jeering remark 
from his mother to the effect “ there was only one 
house would stand him,” after which the remainder of 
the company resumed their dinner and ate a second 
course with great relish. 

“ Jack,” cried Mrs. Fermoy, as her youngest son was 
about to leave, “ tell Mrs. Stenbridge you’ll not be 
able to go with her to-morrow morning.” 

“ Why ? ” asked the boy. 

“Because I want you to take me to market.” 

“ Then I am not going to do anything of the sort,” 
he returned. 

“That’s a pretty way to answer your mother. I 
wonder what Ally would say if she heard you ? ” 

“ She wouldn’t be best pleased,” he replied, softened 
a little, “ but just because she told me to be good to 
you and was always good to me herself, I don’t intend 
you to hunt her up, and that is what I know you 
want ! ” 

“ Hoity toity ! things have come to a fine pass, I’m 
sure ! ” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 261 

“ You were always bully-ragging her when you had 
her, and whether she’s well married, or has gone into 
business, or what she’s doing, I am veiy certain she 
wants to have no more to sa}' to us, so if you are going 
over to the Borough to make a disturbance about her 
you’ll have to go alone.” 

“ And you tell me that to my face ? ” 

“I do, straight,” was the dutiful reply, well calcu- 
lated to cause Mrs. Fermoy to drop on the nearest seat 
and cover her head with her a^^ron and bemoan her 
fate, and ask why she had ever been born and married 
to two husbands and left a widow twice ; and borne 
sons and reared them, with many other questions 
equally pertinent and difficult to answer. 

“Cheer up, motlier ! ” cried Dick, “ what’s the use of 
going on like that? I’ll go with you in the morning.” 

“ I always said you were the best of the bunch,” ob- • 
served Mrs. Fermoy, mollified. “ Yes, we’ll start early, 
and see the man Jack told us about. Do 3^011 remem- 
ber what his name was ? ” 

“Yes, Plashet.” 

Undreaming of the honor in store, Mr. Plashet next 
day, about ten o’clock, having got the worst of his 
business over, was devoting himself to accounts when 
a shadow fell across the shop, and looking up he saw a 
portly female trying to attract his attention. 

“What is 3'our pleasure, ma’am ?” he asked, slowly 
advancing to the front. “ What can I do for you ? ” 

“You can tell me where my daughter is.” 

For once Mr. Plashet was taken aback. “Floored, 
upon my conscience,” he stated subsequently to Mr. 
Johnson. He was so much taken aback, indeed, that 
he could only repeat as an interrogative, “Your daugh- 
ter, ma’am ? ” in a tone of uttei* amazement. 

“Yes, my daughter, sir, as good a girl as ever breathed, 
and pretty too, as 3’ou are aware, for often 3'ou’ve seen 
her. I was making breakfast ready one morning six 
weeks or more ago, when she laid a note down on the 
table to bid me good-by and went off without a word. 


262 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


Since then I have sought her high and I’ve sought her 
low, till at last it crossed my mind yesterday you must 
know where she is and can tell me.” 

“And how the dickens, ma’am, should I know w*here 
your daughter is ? ” asked Mr. Plashet. 

“ You know where the gentleman she has gone off 
with lives.” 

“ What gentleman ? ” 

“ The gentleman in the white hat.” 

“ Now, Lord grant me patience. Are you mad, 
ma’am, or am I ? ” 

“ I am not mad,” answered Mrs. Fermoy, with great 
dignity, “ and if I must say what I think, it is that you 
are making believe a good deal.” 

“Look here,” said Mr. Plashet, “you are laboring 
under some great mistake. I know nothing of your 
daughter. I never saw her so far as I am aware.” 

“Never saw Aileen Fermoy! that dealt with you 
year in year out, and paid you honest, too ; never ” 

“ Stop a bit, stop a bit,” interposed Mr. Plashet. 
“ Fermoy — Fermoy ? Why, could you not have said 
that at first ? I do remember the name ; nice, quiet- 
looking girl with big eyes. Yes, I recall her now, used 
to come over in all weathers with her brother, but I 
know nothing about her, have not seen her for weeks 
past.” 

“ No more have I, and I am just wasting away, 
fretting over what has become of her ? ” 

Mr. Plashet looked at the speaker, and could see no 
sign of wasting. On the contraiy, her clothes appeared 
to be tight rather than otherwise. However, as she 
might have been only using a verbal figure in order to 
convey the idea of great mental agony, he replied : 

“I am sorry, but it is impossible for me to tell you 
where she has gone. It is a case of ‘ not knowing, 
can’t sa}'.’ ” 

“ But, sir, you can tell me where to find your 
friend.” 

“What friend?” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


263 


“The gentlemau with the white hat who took her 
away. The young man who came on Saturday wore a 
white hat too, at least very near white-gray.” 

Mr. Plashet sank despairingly on a stool, took off 
his hat, looked into it, ran his fingers through his hair, 
looked at his hat once more, put it on again very much 
to one side, and then said, “ M}' good soul, will you ex- 
plain what you mean ; I know no man in a white hat.” 

“ Oh ! but you do ; the one that drove a fuss with 
Aileen ; the one she’s gone off with.” 

“ I am as wise as ever,” returned Mr. Plashet ; “I 
can’t imagine who or what you are talking about.” 

“ Can you remember last Whitsuntide as ever was ? ” 
aslved Mrs. Fermoy, in a tone which indicated a rising 
temperature. 

“I remember Whitsuntide, certainly, and — what 
then?” 

“ Why, on Whit-Tuesday my daughter came over 
here for her goods, and no less would serve three of 
your friends than to cany her baskets for her to the 
cart, and ” 

“Gently, now, gently, I am not deaf. I recollect 
there was some larking, but what has that to do with 
this matter ? ” 

“ It has all to do with^t, in a manner of speaking. 
The one in the white hat had a lot to say to Aileen.” 

“Had he?” 

“ Of course he had, and that’s the man has taken 
her from us.” 

“ How do you know? ” 

“ I know well enough. Who else could it be ? Jack 
says he never heard her speak to another unless it 
might be just, ‘That’s a fine day,’ or ‘ Good afternoon,’ 
or such like. From that morning she was a changed 
girl. We every one noticed how queer and different 
she grew — not all at once, you understand, but by 
degrees. Her temper got that short, if I hadn’t the 
best of tempers myself, one house couldn’t have held 
us, and as for the dear little children, my son’s boy and 


264 . 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


girl, they would fly like frightened hares at the sound 
of her very step. 

“ Still, I fail to see ” 

“ At the best, she went about like one in a dream, 
and if anybody spoke to her she started and looked as 
tliough roused from sleep. She w'as always saying she 
had to go into the city, too, or some other place. She 
has never once put foot across the threshold, except in 
the way of her business.” 

“I don’t see that all this has anything to do with my 
friend, though.” 

“Maybe not, but I do. She’s gone off with him 
right enough, with him and no other.” 

“We’ll soon settle your mind about that,” said Mr. 
Plashet. “Jake,” he added, addressing his man, busy 
among the sacks as usual. “ Just run round the corner 
and see if you can find Mr. Johnson. Tell him I’d be 
glad if he would step in for a moment. You’d better 
sit down,” and vacating the stool, he indicated with a 
gesture that Mrs. Fermoy was at liberty to take pos- 
session. 

Mrs. Fermoy, however, would do nothing of the 
sort. Instead, she waited with such patience as she 
might the return of Jake, who presently came back 
and unceremoniously statec^ “He’s cornin’ ! ” 

Meanwhile, a few idlers had gathered, who treated 
with disdain Jake’s mandate, “You be off,” and seemed 
rather to enjoy the angry looks with which one of the 
actors in a drama, got up especially for their delecta- 
tion, regarded them. 

Presently Mr. Johnson himself appeared, clothed in 
a dark suit and wearing a soft wide-awake. 

“ This is the gentleman,” said Mr. Plashet by way of 
introduction, and then, seeing his friend looked mysti- 
fied, added — “This lady wants to know where her 
daughter is.” 

“ Very happy, I am sure, to give her any informa- 
tion in my power ; but who is the lady ? ” 

“Mrs. Fermoy, I suppose.” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


265 


“ Proud to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” said 
Mr. Johnson, raising his hat. “In what way can I 
have the pleasure of serving you ? ” 

“ If you’ll just tell me without any more words where 
my daughter is, I’ll thank you.” 

“ I am not a magician, unfortunately,” answered Mr. 
Johnson. “Plashet, is this a jest or a wager? ” 

“ It is neither, on my part,” was the reply, “and I 
think Mrs. Fermoy is in very serious earnest. She be- 
lieves you have enticed away her daughter and ” 

“I! good heavens! I know nothing about your 
daughter, ma’am. She’s as total a stranger to me as 
you were five minutes ago.” 

“ That is all very fine,” returned Mrs. Fermoy, “ but 
you can’t deri}' you saw her last Whit-Tuesday and 
carried her baskets across this very market to the 
cart.” 

“Did I, really?” asked Mr. Johnson, in helpless be- 
wilderment. 

“Oh! don’t get on that way! What’s the use?” 
exclaimed Mrs. Fermoy. 

“You really did,” said Mr. Plashet; “you and Cox 
and Simmons. The girl came here for goods, and you, 
being still a little Whit-Mondayish, began to chaff her. 
She did not like it — a pretty girl — you begin to re- 
member now.” 

“ I do remember something about the matter ; but 
that is months ago, and I have never set eyes on her 
since.” 

“Never met her any place either, I suppose, or sent 
her letters, or enticed her away from her widowed 
mother, or persuaded her to sell her good business for 
a song ? ” suggested Mrs. Fermoy, with scornful in- 
credulity. 

“ Never, upon my honor.” 

“ Your honor, indeed ! Come, tell me where you’ve 
got her, and don’t keep me standing here all day.” 

“ I assure you, Mrs. Fermoy, you are accusing me 
most unjustly. I know nothing whatever about your 


266 


THE HEAD OP THE FIRM. 


daughter. You might as reasonably ask Mr. Plashet 
where she is.” 

“ She has,” remarked that individual, who was stand- 
ing a little aloof, carefully trimming his nails; “but I 
can make allowances. Such a trouble is enough to 
upset any W9man.” 

“ But why should she imagine I have anything to do 
with the girl’s disappearance ? Am I a man of that 
sort ? Plashet, what induced you to send for me of all 
people on earth ? ” 

“I sent for you because Mrs. Fermoy seemed satis- 
fied you had something to do with the matter, and one 
never knows,” was the calm reply. 

“ But I have nothing to do with it.” 

“I quite believe that.” 

“Then tell her so.” 

“I was just thinking what I could say to her. Will 
you kindly keep back ? ” he added, addressing the 
group of idlers. “What we are talking about is no 
concern of yours.” 

“ Pray do not allow any feeling of shyness to mar 
your enjoyment,” added Mr. Johnson, with an hyster- 
ical laugh ; “ the entertainment is got up entirely for 
your benefit. Stalls, boxes, dress circles, and gallery 
gratis, and quite free. Dramatis perwacB. Heartbroken 
mother,” pointing to Mrs. Fermoy, “ desperate villain, 
myself — false friend, Mr. Plashet — first and last per- 
formance on any stage. Walk up, ladies and gentle- 
men ; pray walk up. It is a very nice little play, but 
upon my soul I don’t see the fun of it.” 

“ Drat you,” cried Mrs. Fermo}^ furiously. “It is 
just what I might have expected, though. The man 
who would entice a girl from her duty would be sure 
to make game of her mother.” 

“Indeed you are wrong,” said Mr. Plashet, shutting 
up his knife and putting it in his pocket. “I am sure | 
Mr. Johnson knows no more where your daughter is 
than I do. Your best plan will be to go to the police, or 
mention your daughter’s disappearance to the nearest 


THE HEAD OF THE FIMM. 


267 


magistrate, then the papers will put in a paragraph, 
and if any harm has come to her, or she has made away 
with herself, you’ll be sure to hear.” 

“ Who said she’d made away with herself ? ” 

“ Why, no one ; but I thought perhaps ” 

“Then you may keep j^our thoughts till you’re asked 
for them. What I want to know is where she has gone. 
As for having made away with herself, dead people don’t 
send you five-pound notes by impudent upstarts.” 
“And did your daughter send a five-pound note? ” 

“ Indeed she did, and she says she’d send five pounds 
evefy week and pa^^ the rent ; so she must be rolling 

in wealth some place, and ” 

“ Then what the deuce have you been making all 
this row about ? ” asked Mr. Plashet. 

“ Did you really imagine I had five-pound notes to 
fling about in this fashion ? ” supplemented Mr. Johnson. 

“It is very hard to say what you sort has, or how 
you get it,” replied Mrs. Fermoy, so vindictively that 
the audience tittered. 

“Come, come,” interposed Mr. Plashet, “none of 
that ; keep a civil tongue in your head, or I’ll have to 
ask you to clear oflf. We have been very partial with 
you, believing you were in trouble, and we are not 
going to put up with any more nonsense. If your girl 
is really able and willing to send you 'money, you are 
confoundedly lucky ; that is all I can say.” 

“ Permit me to ask, madam, whether your affections 
are free,” said Mr. Johnson, with the air of a person 
from whose mind a load has been removed. “ I have 
long been looking out for a lady in receipt of £5 a 

week with whom to share my heart, and, in fact ” 

“Get along with you ; do,” exclaimed Mrs. Fermoy. 
as the speaker advanced toward her with a look in- 
tended to express devoted admiration. “ It’s plain to 
be seen that whip-snap who came on Saturday after- 
noon is in the same boiling with you ; but you’ll all be 
sorry, before I’ve ended my say, you ever meddled 
with me or Aileen Fermoy.” 


268 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“Aileen Fermoy has come into money,” cried a 
shrill falsetto, belonging to no one at all concerned in 
the conversation. 

“Who spoke?” asked Mr. Plashet. 

There ensued dead silence for about the space in 
which one might have counted six. 

Then a path opened through the little crowd, and a 
girl, aged about fourteen, attired in a ragged black 
dress and fancy apron, and wearing a sailor hat with 
long brown hair hanging below her waist, was pushed 
forward to the front, when she bobbed a courte^ to 
Mr. Plashet. 

“ Was it you who said that ? ” he asked. 

“ Yes, sir, if you please.” 

“And what do you know about Miss Fermoy ? ” 

“ Wlien my mother was a nursing Mrs. Jackies, two 
ladies come to see her, one wearing a silk dress as 
would have stood alone. They brought her real turtle, 
the same as the Lord Mayor has for his breakfast, and 
grapes big as walnuts, real hot-housers, and Madairy 
wine, and Mrs. Jackies told mother one of them used 
to buy greens and such like off her, but that she had 
come into money and did not forget old times, and she 
said Aileen Fermoy was always a good girl, and she felt 
glad luck had turned with her.” 

For a moment this sentence, poured forth in a 
breath, seemed to petrify those who heard. Mrs. Fer- 
moy was the first to recover herself. 

“I’ll go this minute and see Mrs. Jackies,” she said. 
“I’ll soon be at the bottom of the matter now. This 
woman will tell me what I want to know.” 

“I don’t think she will,” said Mr. Plashet with his 
usual sangfroid. 

“ Why not? ” 

“Because she’s dead,” which, thougk not a very 
lively statement, caused a shout of laughter. 

“ The performance is over,” remarked Mr. Johnson 
to the lookers-on. “ You can sing ‘ God Save the 
Queen,’ if you like.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 

• QUITE HAPPY. 

It is pathetic to consider how, with some otherwise 
admirable persons, any accession of wealth only pro- 
duces greater pecuniary difficulty, and all efforts at re- 
trenchment lead to increased expenditure. 

“By no means run in debt,” says George Herbert. 

“ Take thine own measure. 

“ Who cannot live on twenty pounds a year 

“Cannot on forty ” 

Which remark is true of forty thousand pounds a 
year as of the humble forty, because the larger an in- 
come any one of such a temperament has to spend 
the more abundantly do opportunities present them- 
selves for squandering that income unwisely. 

Mr. Edward Desborne was a strikiug example of 
the truth of the assertion that there are men to whom 
good gifts prove curses instead of blessings. All his 
life some one had been trying to benefit him, all his 
life he had been trying, not without success, to render 
those benefits nugatory. No friendship he formed, 
and he formed many, proved of the slightest personal 
advantage to this popular j^oung man. He was always 
using his friends, his connections, his family, for the 
advantage of some one else. After a fashion, he re- 
mained contentedly out in the cold, while others basked 
beside fires of his lighting, kept going by fuel of his 
supplying. A charming fellow, said a world not much 
given to unselfishness — yes, a delightful fellow, wheth- 
er to live with, to talk with, or ask a favor from, yet, 
nevertheless, as time went on, his uncle began to 


270 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


understand these delightfal fellows, in whom there 
was a deficiency. 

“Too unselfish, too generous,” he observed to the 
then head of the Desborne firm. 

“ Can a man be too unselfish and too generous ? ” 
asked Mi*. Frederick Desborne in return. 

“I am afraid so, I think Ned is,” was the reply. 

When the Kilroy estates drifted into Cloak Lane for 
adjustment, or rather, for some one learned in legal lore 
to try whether a pittance might not be found amid the 
mortgages on which the old Earl might support life, 
Mr. Edward Desborne was by one consent selected as 
the emissary of his firm and sent to condole with so 
distinguished a client on the ravages, dicing, card play- 
ing, horse-racing, actresses, and extravagant living had 
wrought in the once goodly revenues granted by a 
king to his mistress. 

The Kilroys had from the first been a wild, bad, 
unprincipled lot. They had paid as little as they could 
avoid, they had spent as much as they could get, they 
had been in no way particular either about their own 
wives and estates or about the wives and estates of 
other people. There was always a divorce suit hanging 
over the Kilroys in some connection in the good old 
days, there were many duels in the air likewise, as well 
as chanceiy proceedings and proceedings at common 
law, there had been trials concerning legitimacy and 
settlements and claims by ill-disposed persons, in which 
money lent and not repaid formed a prominent and 
interesting feature. What with sons joining fathers 
and heirs joining owners in raising loans for mutual 
benefit, the Kilroy lands were up to the hilt in debt, 
so that when Lord Hewitt Harlingford succeeded on 
his brother’s death to the earldom of Kilro}', he found 
himself the inheritor of a title which few respected, 
twenty miles or so of barren land in Simon Bay Inland, 
the family mansion much out of repair in Midland- 
shire, a library filled with books he could not sell and 
did not care to read, a number of old family portraits 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


271 


of no particular value, stables in which there were no 
horses, and gardens going to wreck and ruin, that it 
would have required a small fortune to keep up. 
Further, his nephew, who in the ordinary course would 
have succeeded to the Earldom but wisely died before 
doing so, left three daughters who were permitted by 
( the new owner to reside in the family mansion. 

He had a great idea of the claims of kinship, and 
perhaps felt he owed a small debt to inherit. However 
all this might be, he allowed them to remain when he, 
Hewitt Harlington, came into his own. 

They had a little money which was spent on their 
education and dress, and for the rest their keep did not 
cost much. The world said his conduct was worthy of 
j all praise, and no doubt he thought so himself. He 
I knew he could save nothing for them, so from an early 
I age they were made aware they would have to shift for 
■: themselves, which two of them did by marrjdng, not so 
i well as they w^ould have liked, but as well as they 
li could. Emily, the second girl, did not “go off” soon, 

I she had set her young affections on Claud, the heir pre- 
sumptive. If the old Earl did not marry, or, if he 
did marry, had no son, Claud must succeed, and though 
there was little money, Emily felt she would like to be 
Countess of Kilroy, but Claud’s mother, having other 
i: views for her son, married him to a rich wife. It is 
[| hard for a young lady to be disappointed in such a 
|| manner, and Miss Harlington felt the blow keenly. She 
f passed and made other people pass through a very sad 
Ij time indeed. Miss Simpson could have told many 
I stories about that sorrowful period, but Miss Simpson 
i! was not in the habit of telling tales, so the outside 
1 world heard nothing of the anger and heart-burnings 
j that made life unpleasant at Cotway Park. 

[ It was about a couple of years after this shock that 
Lord Kilroy ’s affairs got into such a state of entangle- 
ment that it became necessary to consult a lawyer. The 
family solicitor being on the other side, by some freak 
of fate, matters were put into the hands of Messrs. Des- 


272 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


borne, and Edward Desborne consequently saw the 
Earl at the Lory’s Hotel, where that nobleman was 
staying. From the lady who had succeeded in leading 
a sovereign from the straight path of virtue new de- 
scendants had inherited many graces of manner, which 
they could exert when occasion demanded. 

It seemed to Lord Kilroy, who really was about the 
kindest and best of his race, that as this young lawyer 
might find a w^ay to help even such an impecunious 
client, it would be well worth while to conciliate him, 
which idea he carried out by not merely treating Mr. 
Desborne in the most courteous manner, but by ask- 
ing him to Cot way Park. 

It is but justice to add that when giving this invita- 
tion, which only meant pursuing their consultations in 
the country rather than in town, the Earl had not the 
remotest intention of securing a husband for his niece. 

Such a notion never entered Lord Kilroy ’s mind. It 
had occurred to him that it might be rather a good 
thing if their Kector would think of Emily and propose 
for her, but match-making was not in his line, and 
when the Rector did not evince any passionate desire 
to partake of such hospitality as Cotway Park ever ex- 
tended to any one, he wisely let the matter drop. His 
other nieces had managed their matrimonial affairs for 
themselves. No doubt in time Emily would follow 
their excellent example. At all events, he was not 
bound to find a husband for her, and yet when he asked 
young Desborne this was precisely what he did do. 

If ever a man fell in love at first sight, that man was 
Edward Desborne. He was no snob, yet it would be 
perhaps going too far to say Cotway Park and the Earl 
of Kilroy and Emily’s own small courtes}’, title, and the 
pervading atmosphere of nobility failed to produce an 
effect upon him. 

To feel certain, as he did afterwards, that had his 
adored one been a milkmaid, he would have wor- 
shipped her all the same, sounded very well, but could 
only be regarded as absolutely incorrect. It was her 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


273 


air of birth and breeding, of calm indifference, of utter 
superiority, her voice, her movements, her manners, 
that played such havoc with his heart. 

His uncle might be quite right when he said the 
Harliiigfords owed their title to a disreputable baggage, 
with no other merits than a sweet voice and neat foot 
and ankle, but it was a long time since that young per- 
son danced and thrilled before her sovereign, and during 
all those years the Harlingfords had been sleeping on 
down and feeding daintily, having servants at their beck 
and call, and doing no manner of menial work them- 
selves. Every family must have seen a beginning, and 
Patty was almost hidden in the mists of centuries, or 
at least would have been but for a portrait extant in 
one of the royal palaces, a roguish, laughing portrait 
of a girl, pretty enough to make even an anchorite for- 
get the sin in admiration of the sinner. Besides, the 
sin was such an old world story, and manners and 
morals were different then, at least so people said, 
though this is a question on which one may be per- 
mitted to hold one’s own opinion, and the Harlingfords 
had married and intermarried with families who held 
their heads very high and thought a great deal of them- 
selves, and the origin of the Kilroys had nothing what- 
ever to do with Miss Harlingford, who was the loveliest, 
the best, the tenderest, the most captivating creature 
who ever deigned to tread this common earth. 

The tale of Mr. Edward Desborne’s love affair need 
not be pursued further ; it ran smoothly, and was ex- 
pedited by the fact that the young lawyer managed to 
procure some money for the old Peer’s needs. More- 
over, he had it in his power to settle ten thousand 
pounds, which came to him through his mother, on 
Miss Harlingford. Lord Kilroy satisfied himself the 
Desbornes were persons possessed not merely of a long 
pedigree but a long purse. 

“ Excellent old-fashioned business,” he said, repeat- 
ing what his banker had told him, “ which must return 
a fii^e income, profession more profitable than land now, 


274 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


father rich, .only son, uncle immensely wealthy, been 
hoarding for thirty years, will leave every sou to his 
nephew, clever young fellow, Desborne, managed my 
little matter splendidly, bowled Daggington over com- 
pletely, may rise high, people of that sort do rise high 
in these days, very different once, but other times other 
manners (Mr. Thomas Desborne* wasn’t at hand to ask 
what manners obtained in those better times, when 
Patty rose to eminence), on the whole Emily has not 
done badly. Girls without a penny have no chance of 
meeting with their peers. This is an age in which 
money is everything.” 

Money had been everything to the Harlingfords in 
all ages, but such a mere detail was unworthy of men- 
tion. 

The proposed marriage satisfied every one, except the 
bride and Mr. Thomas Desborne, both of whom, for 
excellent reasons, kept their opinions to themselves. 

Even the perspective Earl and Countess graced the 
wedding ceremony to which the whole family gave their 
countenance, and said Emily had done remarkably well 
for herself. The Desbornes, father and son, were voted 
to be “really quite presentable,” and though the rich 
uncle was conspicuous by his absence, he sent a hand- 
some gift, and the Harlingfords represented and be- 
lieved he stayed away merely that he might add a fe\y 
more thousands to tlie many already profitably invested 
for the benefit of Emily’s husband. 

Everything, in a word, went off admirably. The 
bride’s noble relations behaved in a charming manner 
The Earl spoke quite tenderly of the bridegroom, ana 
was deeply affected while alluding to the impending 
separation from his dear niece whom he had always se- 
cretly disliked. Mr. and the Honorable Mrs. Desborne 
started for the Continent, the Harlingfords dispersed 
to their several homes, or to the homes of other people, 
and Cotway Park resumed its ordinary look of neglect 
and dulness. 

If the firm in Cloak Lane expected any increase of 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


275 


business to result from the Kilroy alliance, such antici- 
pations were doomed to disappointment. 

No Desborne was again consulted by any one of the 
distinguished family, the old Earl died without settling 
his “little bill,” and as his relations did not settle it for 
him the amount had to be written off the Desbornes’ 
books. 

“We are the poorer by that much and the worse by 
a wife,” thought Mr. Thomas Desborne, but he did not 
say anything, only continued adding to that mound of 
wealth the Harlingfords had seen as in a glass — very 
clearly. 

To help the young people, Mr. Desborne not merely 
waived his life interest in that ten thousand pounds 
settled on Miss Harlingford, but bought the lease of a 
house ill York Terrace for them and furnished that 
house throughout. 

After a time, the less distinguished members of Mrs. 
Desborne’s family were good enough to provide guests 
in sufficient numbers to fill the new home — indeed, the 
relays were so unceasing that in the season it became 
necessary to provide a larger residence for their ac- 
commodation out of town. 

It was in this way Ashwater came to be purchased. 
Some one told the higlily privileged husband it was a 
nice place and could be had cheap, whereupon he at 
once bethought him he would much prefer a settled 
summer house to wandering from one furnished house 
to another. 

Mr. Frederick Desborne thought this idea a good and 
sensible one. Renting furnished villas runs into money, 
for which at the end of a few months there is nothing 
to show, “ whereas,” thus he sapiently observed to his 
brother, “ a house you buy is always your house.” 

“ And if 3’'ou live in it, always a source of expense,” 
added that astute gentleman, but as usual his words of 
wisdom were not heeded, and the end of the matter was 
that he bought, not the freehold of Ashwater as Mr. 
Tovey supposed, but the lease, and presented it to his 


276 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


nephew with the remark that he hoped “ the place 
would really be the means of saving money.’* 

When a man, however, lives in the city and does not 
believe in the necessity of going out of town or taking a 
holiday, his opinions can scarcely be expected to carry 
much weight, especially when the person who listens 
to them holds views diametrically opposite. Mr. Edward 
Desborne, however, was most grateful for the gift and 
assured his uncle it would largely reduce his expendi- 
tures. He fully believed this at the time, and as, when 
tliat not far distant day arrived, which brought him 
knowledge of his mistake, he said nothing concerning 
it, Mr. Thomas Desborne never imagined how many 
furnished houses might each season have been rented 
for the amount Ashwater swallowed up. 

But though the owner was aware his outgoings were 
heavy, money pressure did not much inconvenience 
him for a long time. When his father died, he suc- 
ceeded to all that prudent parent’s worldly wealth, and 
though the amount was far below the sum, people be- 
lieved it paid all debts and left a margin wide enough 
to enable him to live without anxiety for some years, 
during which the profits made in Cloak Lane steadily 
declined, and the expenses of Mr. Edward Desborne’s 
household as steadily increased. 

So far as this Avorld is concerned, a man had better 
be wicked than weak. About the next we do not know, 
but possibly the same fact may hold true then likewise. 
Whatever good others tried to compass for him, the 
Head of the Firm changed into evil for himself. Even 
when that suggestion of Mr. Thomas Desborne’s con- 
cerning Aileen Fermoy was carried out, his nephew 
managed to make the additional income a total loss by 
presenting it to Mrs. Desborne as a peace-offering, and 
saddling himself with every additional expense neces- 
sitated by the scheme. 

But Aileen knew nothing of all this, was unaware 
how unwelcome the arrangement had seemed to the 
lady she admired with an intensity which amounted 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 277 

to devotion, and had not the faintest suspicion of the 
cares hidden under Mr. Desborne’s kindly smile. 

To her, existence at that time seemed beautiful as a 
fairy dream. 

Though Miss Simpson was constantly saying : “ Do 

this” or “do not do that,” she never made the girl 
feel her deficiencies painfully. Never had pupil a 
kinder teacher, never had teacher a more appreciative 
pupil. Mr. Thomas Desborne need not have feared 
that Ashwater would have appeared dull to either of the 
women so strangely associated. The country proved 
an experience as delightful as new to Aileen, while her 
sunny temper made even wintry skies and leafless trees 
charming to Miss Simpson. 

There is no mental tonic or physical beautifier to 
equal happiness, and Aileen was happy as she could 
be. Care and she seemed to have bid each other a 
final farewell. The old life at Battersea so sordid, so 
miserable, yet so full of brave struggle, gallant en- 
deavor, and patient self-denial, faded often almost 
entirely from memory, and the good and peaceful pres- 
ent took its place. 

Though she had sufficient good sense not to speak 
of that hard past she was in no way ashamed of her 
own i^art in it. The violence, the laziness, and the ex- 
travagance which had made her former home wretched 
were terrible to remember, but the contrast with Ash- 
water did not accentuate the misery of her recollec- 
tions. 

She was young, and youth has elasticity ; she was 
kind and she had plenty of opportunities for showing 
kindness, she felt she was learning to be “ like a lady,” 
she had the next best thing to talent — a loyal admira- 
tion for talent in others. 

“ Are you happy here ? ” asked Mr. Thomas Des- 
borne, one Sunday when he was walking through the 
garden with her. 

“ Yes, indeed, I am,” she answered. “ Quite happy, 
perfectly happy.” 


CHAPTEE XX. 


PRETTY MISS WILTON. 

Miss Simpson and her charge were not left to their 
own devices so completely at Teddiiigton as had been 
the case in London. The Valley of the Thames is a 
place where beauty of wealth, or even a person who 
lives in a fairly good house, is seldom permitted to re- 
main entirely secluded from society. Liking to visit 
it assumes the generality of people like to be visited, 
and resented the fact that Mrs. Desborne only cared 
to be called upon by great people. 

Many ladies who would not see in what way she was 
much better than themselves disparaged her at after- 
noon teas and remarked that although she might be an 
Earl’s grand- daughter, she was a solicitor’s wife. They 
talked slightingly also of her visitors who did not, 
Teddington thought, behave nicely, seeming to imagine 
the river belonged to them and the railway station too. 

It is a true saying that we dislike those we do not 
know, and as Mrs. Desborne would not know her 
neighbors, her neighbors disliked her and her friends 
very cordially indeed, and felt it a scandal Ash water 
should be inhabited by such people. Of course it was 
not Mr. Desborne’s fault. No one could be more 
charming. All the gentlemen spoke in his praise, and 
so did every lady who travelled with him, but then his 
manners, though delightful, failed to open the gates of 
Ashwater to Miss This and Mrs. That, not even a child 
was asked to make friends with the little boy, and Ted- 
dington could but consider such a state of things very 
wrong. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


279 


Laudably anxious to set wrong right, when Miss 
Simpson and Aileen were seen to enter Ashwater, it 
was decided to call on them, and for the first time in 
her life Aileen had an opportunity of learning w'hat 
pleasant and satisfying things morning calls are. 

She was at first afraid of talking herself, but lis- 
tened while Miss Simpson and the ladies talked ; after 
some time, however, she began to take a small part in 
the conversation herself, notably when help was needed 
to buy coals, or open a soup kitchen, or assist an orphan, 
or gladden the heart of a widow. 

Then she delighted to give. There never was such 
a girl for giving, and she thought so little of what she 
did, and was so modest and sweet and pretty, every 
one felt it to be “most sad she was not a lady.” 

One bright frosty day, early in the new year, a young 
lady entered the library, where Aileen was struggling 
with the humors of a French grammar, and greeted 
her with a familiar warmth which seemed as unusual 
as surprising. 

“ How do you do ? ” she began. “ We only came home 
on Saturday, or I should have called sooner. You 
must be moped to death in this stupid place. Awful 
luck, I call it, to be stuck down in such a hole all 
through the winter, with not a soul in the neighbor- 
hood who can talk of anything but dorcas meetings 
and bazaars ! I hope you loathe fancy work ? ” 

“ I am very stupid about fancy work,” answered 
Aileen. 

“ That’s right ; you can’t be too stupid about every- 
thing most womanlike to suit me. I know we shall 
get on famously — I said so to the dad as we came 
home from church. He will go to church — thinks it 
looks respectable. He does not confess that of course, 
but I know. Let’s see, your name’s Fermoy, isn’t 
it?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Ah ! felt sure it couldn’t be Simpson, though the 
dad as usual got muddled and persisted the elderly 


280 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


party was Mrs. or Miss Fermoy. Well, and what re- 
lation is she of yours ? ” 

“ Who do you mean ? I scarcely understand.” 

“ The elderly party. The old lady, if you like that 
phrase better, I saw with you in church.” 

“ Miss Simpson ? she is no relation of mine.” 

“ Then why does she live with you ? ” 

“Because she is teaching me,” replied Aileen, after 
a second’s hesitation. 

“ Teaching you ! What ? ” 

“Everything.” 

“ Nonsense, you are chaffing me.” 

“ Indeed I am not. Why should I ? ” 

“ I can’t tell, just for a bit of fun, perhaps.” 

It seemed to Aileen that her visitor must have curious 
notions about fun, but she kept silence while the other 
went on. 

“Don’t be offended. I did not intend to vex you, 
only what you said seemed so odd.” 

“ Very, likely, but it is true.” 

“ Most people get all that sort of thing over when 
children, with the beautiful result of making one’s 
youth wretched. How nice it must have been for you 
to learn no lessons in your early days.” 

“ I did learn lessons, but not the sort I am learning 
now.” 

“ I want to be great friends with you ; so don’t you 
think it might turn out a good plan if you began right 
away and told me all about yourself.” 

“I have nothing to tell about myself.” 

“ I dare say. You are a great heiress, aren’t you ? ” 

“ I have some money, a good deal for me.” 

“ Oh ! you lucky creature, and it was left to you by 
some one who thought you were a saint, a girl only a 
little lower than the angels, if not exactly on a level 
with them.” 

“I don’t think that w^as why the money came to me,” 
answered Aileen, laughing. 

“Mrs. King Ferrers, who scratches out everything 


i 

\ 


? 

i 




THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


281 


about other folks’ affairs — the old cat — said you came 
by your fortune in that way.” 

“ She is mistaken. It came from a person I never 
saw, my father’s uncle.” 

“ How extraordinary. My father had plenty of uncles, 
yet they never left him or me a penny. Indeed, I 
don’t know that they possessed a penny they could 
leave. And so you are very rich ! ” 

“ I believe I am rich ! ” 

“ Now, I do call that unfair. We are always being- 
told Providence orders things wisely and well, but I 
can’t think it. Why, for instance, was money given to 
you who sit indoors poring over a French grammar, 
and when you go out only poke about after poor old 
women and sickly young ones, whereas if any uncle of 
my father or mother, or uncle of anybody else, had seen 
fit to leave me a fortune I’d have led the way.” 

“ Where ? ” 

“ Wherever there was plenty of life going. I’d hav& 
been a M. F. H. for one thing.” 

“ What’s that ? ” 

“ My dear, Miss Simpson is neglecting your educa- 
tion shamefully. Can you ride ? ” 

Aileen shook her head. 

“ Well, you ought to begin to learn at once, tell her 
I’ll be happy to teach you. On second thoughts, tell 
her I think I had better take her place altogether. Her 
system of education is far too antiquated — exploded 
long ago. Yes, that would be delightful. Should you 
not like to have me for a governess? ” 

“ I know so little of you ” said Aileen, somewhat at 
a loss how to answer. 

“ And I know so little of you ; but I feel no doubt we 
would get on splendidly. You need not look so fright- 
ened, however. I won’t bring over my traps to-night. 
For one reason, because the dad couldn’t spare me ; I 
could spare him very well, but that is always the way 
in this contrary world. Good gracious child, don’t look 
so shocked. If one may not speak freely about one’s 


282 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


father, about whom may one speak ? I don’t say any- 
thing concerning my dad I don’t say before his face. I 
am always telling him that of all the selfish, fidgetty, 
close-fisted humbugs on earth he is the chief. A most 
undutiful, disobedient, ungrateful dad to a hardwork- 
ing, suffering daughter. What are you staring at. Miss 
Fermoy ? It is not good form to stare in that way.” 

“I am so sorry,” stammered Aileen, coloring. “I 
was only ” 

“ Well, go on. You were only ” 

“ Thinking how lovely you are,” exclaimed the other 
in desperation. 

Most unceremoniously the visitor had thrown back 
her boa, and sat with her fair white throat open to 
view. There never was any one who possessed so white 
a throat and so fair a face, thought Aileen, and persons 
who had seen much more of the world and the people 
in it than Timothy Fermoy’s daughter might have 
excused her coming to the same conclusion. 

“ Now, I call that the sweetest speech. I never had 
such a pretty compliment paid me before,” exclaimed 
the other, rising and taking hold of Aileen’s hand im- 
pulsively. “I should like to kiss you for it, but we 
have not known each other long enough for such a 
ceremony, I am afraid. Will you get a shawl and 
take me through the grounds? I should like of all 
things to see them.” 

“ Certainly, I will just run up and tell Miss Simpson 
I am going out.” 

“ Where is the admirable Miss Simpson who, I hope, 
will not consider it necessary to accompany us.” 

“ She is laid up with a cold, I am sorry to say.” 

“ Pray assure her of my profound regret. I trust 
ere long, however, to have the pleasure of making her 
acquaintance. See, take my card and the dad’s too, 
and add he also will be more than delighted to make 
her acquaintance.” 

Miss Wilton, Homefield Lodge. Major Wilton, 
Junior Army & Navy Club,” read Miss Simpson, after 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


283 


fche blind had been raised a little. “ Go, by all means, 
my dear, take her wherever she wishes, only wrap up 
well — we must not have any more invalids in the 
house.” 

“ In wet seasons the lawn becomes invisible, I sup- 
pose,” suggested Miss Wilton, as they strolled along. 
“It is one of the great charms of this enchanting 
neighborhood that old Father Thames so often pays 
a visit to the drawing-room. I am always glad when 
he does, because then we must go away, and any place, 
in my opinion, is better than home.” 

“ Oh ! do you think so ? ” 

“ Of course, and so does every one possessed of any 
common sense. There is nothing about which more 
‘tommy rot ’ is talked than home, unless it may be re- 
lations. ‘ Blood is thicker than water ’ is being con- 
tinually dinned into our ears, or ‘ there is no one like 
your own,’ whereas the plain, honest truth is that rela- 
tions are always either so respectable they are half- 
ashamed of us, or they are so disreputable we are 
wholly ashamed of them, and it is precisely the same 
with that much vaunted residence home ; either we are 
not wanted there, or else we don’t want to go there. I 
am sick of all that sort of humbug.” 

Aileen looked startled, no one knew better than she 
how correct Miss Wilton’s bitter opinion was, yet it 
hurt her because she had believed her own experience 
to be exceptional, and the words of wisdom which de- 
clared home was not home, or the relations thrust upon 
us at birth preferable to the friends we make for our- 
selves, seemed to uproot some pleasant superstition 
without substituting any better faith in its stead. 

“I should have thought,” she said, softly, a kindly 
tact teaching her the very reply to make under difficult 
circumstances, “ that you were always wanted at 
home.” 

“ Of course I am,” answered Miss Wilton, “ and that 
only proves the correctness of what I have just said. 
My" father, when he is in other folks’ houses, can exist 


284 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


without me admirably, but when he is what he calls 
‘ bivouacking ’ in his own, he is unable to support 
life unless consoled by my presence. I am fairly well 
educated and accomplished as girls go, but I have to 
stop in this awful place all the winter because no one 
can make an omelet or poach an egg or send in such 
coffee as 1. It is lively, isn’t it, to consider all the 
money a credulous old godmother wasted on the 
modern equivalents to the three Ks was spent merely 
that I might tot up laundress’s bills and' keep down 
tradesmen’s books, but I lose myself in admiration 
of the dad’s cleverness wdien I talk of how he man- 
aged to break me in. Let ns change the painful 
subject. How do you stable your horses with Mrs. 
Desborne ? ” 

“ I have only seen her twice for a few minutes each 
time.” 

“Soho, soho !” exclaimed Miss Wilton. 

Aileen had not the faintest notion what this phrase 
meant, and waited for further information, none came, 
however. 

“Have you seen Mr. Desborne only twice also?” 
asked Miss Wilton. 

“ Oh, no, I have been often at his office, and he has 
been down here several times.” 

“ Yes ? ” said the other, but if she meant this as a fish- 
ing monosyllable she must have been disappointed, for 
Aileen did not rise to the bait. 

“ Model husband, isn’t he ? ” 

“He is an excellent one, I am told.” 

“ Does not plunge, or anything of that sort ? ” Whe- 
ther the words contained, a statement or a question, 
they did not please Aileen, who answered a little 
shortly : 

“lam sure he does nothing but what he ought to 
do.” 

Miss Wilton burst out laughing, she had a sweet 
laugh, and her merriment echoed pleasantly across the 
river. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


285 


“ You go boating in the summer, I suppose ? ” she 
said. 

“I have never been at Ash water in the summer.” 

“ Of course not. I forgot, how stupid I am ; but 
you will go boating when the fine weather comes?” 

“It is not likely we shall be here then.” 

“ Why, where will you be ? ” 

“ In London, I imagine.” 

“Oh! that’s the way of it,” commented Miss Wilton, 
and as Aileen did not reply the pair walked down to 
the landing-place in silence. 

“I don’t care much for the water myself,” said the 
visitor, looking into the Thames as she spoke, “but 
then I suppose I take very little interest in anything 
but horses.” 

“ But horses,” repeated Aileen, bewildered. 

“Yes, riding, racing, hunting,” exclaimed Miss Wil- 
ton, leaning over the railing and breaking a twig off the 
weeping ash which swept the stream. 

“ And do you hunt ? ” exclaimed the other in a grad- 
ual crescendo. 

“Rather,” was the reply. 

“ And aren’t you afraid ? ” 

“ It is the greatest delight of my life, except ” 

“ Except what ? ” 

“I ought to have said I would rather hunt than do 
anything in the world, except ride a race.” 

“A race,” repeated Aileen, in bewildered amazement, 
for she felt dizzy with the number of surprises heaped 
upon her. “ What sort of a race ?” 

“The sort is not very material,” replied Miss Wil- 
ton, “preferably a steeple-chase.” 

“But people are killed in steeple - chases some- 
times.” 

“Of course they are.” 

“And you might be killed.” 

“ So I might in hunting, so I might in walking along 
the road — can only die once, however.” 

Aileen did not know what to say to this extraordinary 


286 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


girl. She had vaguely thought of remonstrating when 
Major Wilton was on the tapis. She had felt for one 
moment it would be right to remind so plain-spoken a 
daughter of the commandment which with promise 
directs that a father and mother shall be honored, 
but as the words were trembling on her lips there 
recurred a memory of Mrs. Fermoy, and utterance 
failed. 

It is always the foolish or the inexperienced who are 
ready to blame and swift to advise. Aileen was neither 
foolish nor inexperienced, so consequently held her 
peace about races and steeple-chases, as she had held 
it concerning the, to her, still unknown author of Miss 
Wilton’s being. 

“ We had better be getting back to the house,” said 
that young lady at last, breaking another twig ojBf the 
ash-tree. “ I must not keep you too long from your 
friend and guide Miss Simpson, lest she should forbid 
me to come again, and I want to come again, and I 
want you to come and see me, will you ? ” 

“Yes,” Aileen answered, “I will.” 

“And bring Miss Simpson round to tea, that is, if 
she is soon able to leave the calm seclusion of her own 
apartment. I shall expect to see you at any rate very 
soon.” 

“Thank you,” said Aileen. “ I hope it won’t be long 
before we both get round to Homefield Lodge.” 

“Have you ever seen a race?” asked Miss Wilton, 
looking with a strange interest at the pure, calm face of 
the girl who walked beside her. 

“ Never.” 

“You must go with us to Sandown some day. It 
is such a pretty course. We generally ride over, but 
well make up a party and drive and have a jolly out- 
ing. I don’t think we shall be letting our house this 
summer. It has got into such a state nobody would 
take the place, unless it were done up, and the dad has 
no money to do up anything, so likely we shall remain 
here now till we begin to grow.” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


287 


“I wish you were going to stay too,” replied Aileen. 

“So do I, though I wish even more that we were vot 
going to stay. But never say die, London is not Aus- 
tralia, and though the London & South Western liail 
is slow, it is sure.” 

Her best friend, if one so destitute of friends might 
be supposed to possess a best, could not have described 
Aileen Fermoy as an amusing companion. She was 
pleasant to live with by reason of her sweet temper, 
good sense and ready sympathy, but other of the quali 
ties which go to make up what is called “ good com- 
l^any ” she had not. If she ever said anything funny 
she did so by the purest accident. Life had perhaps 
presented too serious an aspect for her to see the 
humorous side of it ; Mrs. Fermoy’s vagaries only filled 
her with despair, and Bertie and Minuie’s sinfulness 
with dismay. In the terrible atmosphere of Field 
Prospect Road, she had well-nigh forgotten how to 
laugh. Indeed, it would have required a most unusual 
sense of the ludicrous to find aught to laugh at in Mrs. 
Fermoy’s self-esteem, in Tom’s self-deception, in Dick’s 
persistent determination to go to perdition by his own 
self-chosen road, in Peter’s spasmodic attempts to earn 
his living, and Jack’s contemptuous estimate of every 
one except John Connollan and Parole, and Aileen 
found nothing save what was so sad, sordid, and de- 
pressing that her then experiences left deep marks on 
her nature for life. 

At the best, however, it may be doubted whether she 
even possessed that faculty which carries many with 
cheerful light-heartedness over very stony ways. The 
girl took life seriously, and Miss Simpson, who had 
been compelled to take life very seriously also, thought 
she was perfectly right to do so. 

“Nevertheless, human nature being inconsistent, 
there were times when the elder woman’s soul yearned 
for the companionship of some one less averse to 
mimicry, more given to gossip, gayer, livelier, more 
trivial, fonder of dress and the world’s vanities, “but 


288 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


not better/' added Miss Simpson, with a tinge of com- 
pensation. “In that she scarcely could be.” 

“Well, my dear,” she exclaimed, as Aileen entered 
the apartment where she was curing her cold with vari- 
ous potions concocted by herself, which she declared 
to be “worth all the doctors’ stuff in the world,” sand- 
bags, poultices, lozenges, shawls, and abundant cloth- 
ing, “ you have been a long while away. Has your 
visitor gone ? ” 

“ She went some time since,” answered Aileen, who, 
truth to tell, had been wandering up and down the 
river-walk trying without success to decide what she 
thought of Miss Wilton. “ See, I found some winter 
aconite in the shrubbery, is it not pretty ? Does it not 
look like spring ? ” 

Aileen herself looked like spring, wdth a bright light 
in her eyes and a color in her cheeks, she brought in 
with her, too, quite a rush of pure fresh air, which, 
though pleasant to any one in health, made the invalid 
shiver and wrap herself up closer. 

Besides, she did not want to hear about opening 
buds or the delusive promises of early spring, rather, 
she wdshed to learn all she could be told concerning 
Miss Wilton and her father. 

“Yes, very pretty, put them outside the door,” she 
replied, referring to the aconite, not their neighbors at 
Homefield Lodge. “I don’t approve of flowers in 
bedrooms, they are unhealthy and often cause a chill ; 
that will do. Now sit down and tell me whether Miss 
Wilton seems a young lady likely to prove a desirable 
acquaintance.” 

“ She was very friendly,” answered Aileen, “ and 
said she felt most anxious to make your acquaintance.” 

“ So 3'ou told me, my dear, when you brought up her 
card,” observed Miss Simpson, in a tone of gentle re- 
proof. What can be more tiresome than, when eagerly 
searching after new facts, to hear the same old story 
repeated in precisely the same words. 

“ But after that she said again she hoped you would 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


289 


be able to call soon and take a cup of tea with her,” 
persisted Aileen, who being on safe ground felt natur- 
ally disinclined to leave it. 

“ Very polite, just what I should have expected, it 
will give me great pleasure, I am sure. The Wiltons 
are such good people, Mr. Thomas Desborne knows 
all about them.” 

If left to her own unassisted genius, “ good ” was 
perhaps not the precise word Aileen would have em- 
ployed in connection with Miss Wilton, but she under- 
stood the sense in which Miss Simpson used it, and 
accepted the new reading as though imaware there 
could be any other. 

“Major Wilton,” went on Miss Simpson, finding her 
pupil remained respectfully silent, an embarrassing 
habit in which she too frequently indulged, “is a direct 
descendant of Admiral Wilton, who performed such 
prodigies of valor when the Spanish Armada was men- 
acing England. Many members of the family have 
since then loyally served their country both by sea and 
land. Major Wilton himself is no degenerate son of an 
ancient race. He fought with great distinction at many 
places abroad.” Here Miss Simpson coughed, said it was 
turning cold, and asked Aileen to throw another log on 
the fire, all little ruses to cover the fact that she could 
not recollect the name of any one of those celebrated 
places, though she had been racking her brain to do so. 

“Miss Wilton must be young,” she went on, dis- 
creetly leaving distant battles to be fought over again 
by those better acquainted with their whereabouts. 
“ Her father did not marry until considerably over 
forty — he, I conclude, is quite a middle-aged man 
by this time.” 

Aileen, expert enough in the mental arithmetic her 
Battersea experience had necessitated, worked out a 
rough-and-ready calculation with the result that she 
found Major Wilton had- certainly reached middle life 
and passed it. 

She did not confide the result, however, to Miss Simp- 


290 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


son, for that lady had an airy way of talking about age 
which she believed reduced it considerably, only con- 
tented herself with remarking : 

“ Miss Wilton looks younger than I do, but she talks 
as if she were older.” 

“Living in the world would cause her to do that,” 
said Miss Simpson. “ I have no doubt she has mixed 
freely in society.” 

Miss Fermoy did not feel sure on this point. She 
had no knowledge to guide her, so again she was wise 
enough to refrain from speech. 

“ Is she good-looking ? ” asked Miss Simpson, who 
never could comprehend Aileen’s uiifeminine reluctance 
to discourse freely about people. 

“She is the most beautiful creature you ever saw,” 
declared the girl, with enthusiasm. “ I have not seen 
many ladies, of course,” she added, apologetically, “so 
very likely I am no judge, but I do think you will say 
she is most beautiful.” 

“ Indeed ! ” exclaimed Miss Simpson, surprised by 
this burst of eloquence. “ What is her style ? Is she 
fair or dark, handsome or only pretty ? ” 

“ She is perfectly lovely,” returned Aileen with con- i 
viction. j 

“ But that does not answer my question, try to de- ! 
scribe her. Is she tall or short, for instance ? ” 

“ Short, rather than tall, but so slight she looks 
taller than she really is. Her hair is black, if you 
know what I mean, which seems to shine in the light, ; 

her eyes ” *: 

“ Yes,” said Miss Simpson, as Aileen paused. J 

“I was trying to tell you about them, they are not g 
black and yet they are dark as night. I do not kuow| 
what color to call them. I never saw eyes like them i 
before.” 

“ They are brown, perhaps.” j 

“No, oh, no, they are strange eyes, they are ” | 

“ Never mind her eyes,” suggested Miss Simpson,] 
who did not see that any good purpose could be! 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


291 


served by puzzling over this matter. What sort of 
nose has Miss Wilton ? ” 

“Small and straight,” answered Aileen, promptly, 
“and I can’t be sure, but it has just occurred to me, 
that her eyes may be what are called very, very deep 
blue. They are ” 

“ Black hair, deep blue eyes, small straight nose,” 
interrupted Miss Simpson again, “very good, very 
good indeed, so far — delicate black eyebrows, I suppose, 
and long black eyelashes. I know the soi^t of thing, 
fair, soft skin. Such girls have almost always nice 
complexions.” 

“ Her complexion is like milk,” broke in Aileen. “ I 
have often read about that peculiar white, but I never 
really knew what a milk white meant till to-day, and 
yet Miss Wilton’s complexion is clearer, more trans- 
parent I ought to say, than milk.” 

“ I am sure it must be very nice,” kindly observed 
Miss Simpson, “and her mouth ? ” 

“ I don’t remember anything about her mouth, ex- 
cept that the lips are daintily red, and the teeth most 
exquisite — out of a picture there never can have been 
anything like her, and I don’t believe any picture ever 
drawn was so beautiful.” 

“Your description makes me feel anxious to see 
this wonderful young lady. Is she at all conceited or 
affected ? ” 

“ Oh, no I ” said Aileen, but she did not try to tell 
Miss Simpson what Miss Wilton was or what she had 
said, except that she made herself very pleasant and 
talked about a great many things. 

They had gone down to the river and seen a couple 
of swans. They stood watching them for a little ; but 
then the day turned and Miss Wilton felt cold, so they 
walked back to the house. 

Not much to be got out of these interesting items, 
and Miss Simpson felt that as usual Aileen’s conversa- 
tional powers were not of a high order. Any other girl 
would have described the make and material of the 


292 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


visitor’s dress, repeated every word she uttered, and 
given her impression of the young lady’s character and 
disposition. Not so Aileen, certainly there was some 
want about Timothy Fermoy’s daughter, still she was 
hind and good and true. 

“ I think I should like a cup of tea now,” said Miss 
Simpson, “ if Holmes would bring it up.” 

“I will tell her,” volunteered Aileen, and made 
her escape, well pleased her examination in chief was 
finished, for she did not want to say anything concern- 
ing Miss Wilton’s amazing confidences and startling 
modes of speech, w’hich she feared might seem to Miss 
Simpson like some of those portents which we are told 
will herald the coming of the Last Day I 


CHAPTER XXL 


VISITORS. 

Aileen need not have feared the effect Miss Wilton’s 
eccentricities were likely to produce. Miss Simpson 
fell in love with her at first sight, and we all know that 
while that state of mind continues, the object beloved 
can do no wrong. 

Miss Wilton at all events could do no wrong. There 
is no fact more certain than that one person may steal 
a horse, though another may not even with quite honest 
intentions look over the gate. Miss Wilton might have 
stolen many horses, and Miss Simpson continued to 
believe her innocent. The poor lady’s heart was taken 
by storm, and she had no power of reason left. If the 
girl did talk lightly of her father, why it was only talk, 
where could a more devoted daughter be found ? It 
was quite beautiful to think of her making game pies, 
and preparing salads, and arranging recherch'e little 
dinners and improvising appetizing suppers for a man 
who had no doubt lost his liver in India and in conse- 
quence proved rather trying at home. 

“ The poor, pretty little thing ! ” exclaimed Miss 
Simpson, “ only think of the way she slaves ! If she 
does exclaim now and then it is quite natural, and be- 
sides it is all said in fun.” 

Aileen had her own notion about this which she kept 
to herself. It seemed strange to her that Miss Simp- 
son felt so constantly constrained to defend Major 
Wilton’s daughter, when no one was accusing that 
young lady, but in truth the defence happened to be 
against the whisperings of Miss Simpson’s own com- 


294 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


mon sense, whicli were always suggesting the new 
favorite was somehow not quite thorough, rather than 
the puzzled silence in which Timothy Fermoy’s daugh- 
ter heard the petulant complaints and whimsical re pin- 
in gs her lively young friend fulminated against her 
“ dad ’’ and destiny. 

Before March came in, like a lamb, Major Wilton 
called at Ashwater and solemnly paid his respects to 
the two ladies. A most gentlemanly, inscrutable per- 
son, who, at a distance, looked quite juvenile, but 
grew older with each step which brought him nearer 
to the beholder. Generally he wore the shortest of 
reefing jackets and a soft felt head-covering, which his 
daughter described as “a lad of a hat/’ rakish to an 
extent, though it harmonized with the rest of his attire 
as no other hat could. 

He thanked Miss Simpson and Miss Fermoy, in a 
voice that trembled with emotion, for their kindness to 
his “poor little girl.” He w’as more than grateful, 
she was so truly alone, she had so few friends, he 
did not care for her to associate “wdth everyone,” 
and those of his family that might be of advantage to 
her were too rich, too grand for them to visit on equal 
terms. 

“ The earthen and the iron pot, you know, my dear 
madam,” he said with tears in his old eyes. “ The fact 
is I ought not to have married. I should have gone 
far away and left my angel in her peaceful home, but 
I was selfish. I snatched at the chance of a St. Mar- 
tin’s summer of happiness, and I was happy — perfectly. 
Now my dear child has to suffer for that ; her young 
life has been a long winter, a long, cold winter.” 

As Miss Simpson, though much touched, did not 
know exactly what answer to make to a speech so 
private and confidential, she only murmured something 
concerning sympathy and regret, which, however. Ma- 
jor Wilton snatched at. 

He felt content now about his darling girl : for the 
first time since leaving school she had the opportunity 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


295 


of enjoying young society. If he might say so, without 
giving offence, from the moment she saw Miss Simpson 
and Miss Fermoy her heart went out to them. He 
did feel the privilege of knowing there would be an 
inestimable benefit to his daughter, who must often 
have longed for something different in the way of 
society from a battered old soldier like himself, more 
at home in camps than in courts ; and while he hoped 
much for Caroline from such congenial intimacy, he 
could not disguise a kind of conviction that the acquaint- 
ance might prove mutually advantageous — “I mean 
merely to the young ladies, of course, one of whom is 
perhaps a little too confident, while the fault of the 
other,” and he bowed to Aileen, “ if fault indeed it be, 
is evidently a shy lack of self-confidence.” 

No matter how a dialogue begins, if one of the 
speakers is only sufficiently brave and persistent to 
flatter enough, it is sure to end well, always supposing 
there is a quite disinterested listener present. Neither of 
Major Wilton’s listeners could be accounted altogether 
disinterested, and the dialogue between himself and 
Miss Simpson proceeded to an excellent conclusion, 
sometimes, indeed, quite merrily. After a time the 
theme shifted from Ashwater to persons they knew, 
or, more correctly, knew of. It was nice, the lady felt, 
to be discussing once again about familiar subjects on 
the well-remembered ground of yore. 

Lady Jane and Lord John, the Countess of this and 
the Earl of that flowed in smooth numbers from their 
lips. The Major was behind the scenes of high life ; 
the latest scrap of information, the newest morsel of 
gossip, the raciest bit of scandal, the reason why the 
Honorable Miss Somebody did not go to Court, and 
why Mrs., who was not honorable did, were published 
in large type for him. By degrees Miss Simpson’s face 
relaxed into an expression of benignant propriety, and 
softened as though she had resided in the gracious 
atmosphere of high hfe all her days, without thought 
of a salary or anxiety how to make the two ends meet. 


296 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


She was like one who sits down to some unexpected 
feast after a long, long fast. 

This was the sort of thing she had missed. How far, 
far superior Major Wilton’s sayings and doings of the 
Upper Ten, even to that local gossip, she felt Aileen 
might indulge in with advantage. Nay, without dis- 
loyalty, she acknowledged that in some ways his chit- 
chat concerning gi’eat people was more captivating 
than Mr. Thomas Desborue’s historical essays and 
genealogical trees. 

There was the poetry of romance, flower and fruit, 
the stirring of the wind among green leaves, and the 
songs of birds sitting on the topmost boughs, in Major 
Wilton’s discursive treaties, while IVIr. Hesborne’s in- 
structive statement read like the Roll of Caerlaver^ock. 
It sounded delightful, and Miss Simpson felt she could 
have listened to the pleasant melody for an hour, had 
her visitor cared to stay so long. 

Aileen listened too. It all seemed very strange to 
her, but no doubt the rippling music made by the 
flowing river of fashionable life had a certain interest 
for her also. Major Wilton talked familiarly of peo- 
ple, great and grand, just as she had heard, over and 
over again, Mrs. Fermoy gossip about people who were 
lowly and of no account. 

She thought how odd it was to hear a person not 
above speaking to her, Aileen Fermoy, sitting in the 
same room, indeed, discoui*sing as confidently concern- 
ing the sayings and doings of the nobility as if he were 
their brother. 

The girl never doubted that he was on terms of in- 
timate friendship with them all. What a number of 
the aristocracy he knew. What a number of the aris- 
tocracy Miss Simpson knew likewise. In a vague way, 
it occurred to her that all this talk might be just as 
much history as that which Mr. Thomas Desborne had 
taught her to care for, while they w'ere pacing the city 
byways together ; but she felt she liked the latter best, 
and was dreamily wondering why, and thinking she 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


297 


would refer the question to her kind friend in Cloak 
Lane, when her attention was aroused by hearing 
Major Wilton say : 

“I presume that Miss Fermoy, like my own dear 
girl, has not been presented yet.” 

“ No — no, not yet,” answered Miss Simpson, looking 
especially uncomfortable and coloring painfully. 

“ Money difficulties,” remarked the Major, “ have, 
with Caroline, stood in the way, and will continue to 
do so, I fear.” 

‘‘There is no difficulty of that kind in Miss Fer- 
moy’s case,” returned Miss Simpson. 

“ So I have been given to understand. Had Lady 
Penelope Hatcham lived, she would have acted as my 
daughter’s godmother, but of course that is all now 
knocked on the head.” 

“ Of course,” said Miss Simpson, who knew Lady 
Penelope was gone where Court trains and feathers 
need trouble her mind never more. 

“ Keally, it is a matter of little consequence, when 
married they can both make their courtsies. What a 
splendid thing it is to be young,” added Major Wilton, 
in a little burst of sentimental regret. 

“ It is,” agreed Miss Simpson, sighing for no reason 
in particular. 

“ With all the future to make or to mar,” added 
Major Wilton, resolute not to let well alone. 

“Too true,” said Miss Simpson, pensively. 

“And now, my dear lady, I really must be going,” 
declared the Major, rising. “ Oh ! by the by, that re- 
minds me, there was a little something I wanted to say 
— no, thank you, I won’t sit down again. It was just 
this,” and he stood in the middle of the room nursing 
his lackey hat and looking as utterly “ a gentleman one 
would not wish to know,” as can well be imagined, 
“it was just this. I gathered from my little girl — 
pardon me if I have made a mistake — that when Mr. 
and Mrs. Desborne come down here for the summer, 
you will have, in plain words, to turn out. Is that so ? ” 


298 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


“ It would not be convenient for us to remain on 
here,” amended Miss Simpson, in her best manUer. 

“ Precisely so, you know how to put it much bet- 
ter than I, but the result is the same. Well, what 
came into my mind was this : If those two ladies 
could make themselves comfortable in our little box, 
we should feel honored, and we need not lose the plea- 
sure of their society. Carrie would do her best, I know, 
the place is small, but you would not be exacting. 
Will you consider the matter ? Do.” 

“ You are most kind,” said Miss Simpson, “ and I 
really feel unable to thank you as I ought, but it is 
quite arranged that when we leave here we return to 
Mr. Desborne’s house in town.” 

“Oh! I see,” returned Major Wilton, with an in- 
voluntary emphasis on the last word. “Well, no 
doubt our disappointment will be your gain. London, 
even London out of the season, will seem charming 
to your young friend. For myself, I always say, hail, 
rain or shine, give me London. The foggiest day in 
town is preferable to the most brilliant sunshine Ted- 
dington can offer. If anything should occur to change 
your plans, should the summer prove too warm and 
you wish for a breath of country air, remember Home- 
wood Lodge is always at your disposal. Regard it as 
your own, quite your own home,” and with a hurried 
farewell the Major, as though unable to trust himself 
further, departed, leaving Miss Simpson, who, spite of 
her predilection for high life and fashionable gossip, 
was far from being a fool, to reflect very seriously on 
his proposal. 

“No go,” thought the visitor, as he walked toward 
his home, “better not have said anything about the 
matter, but how the deuce was I to know ? Just like 
my luck ! and there are those confounded Desbornes 
literally wallowing in wealth, making a pot of money 
out of that wench, while I can’t see my way to a fiver. 
Well, they shan’t have the course quite clear ! ” 

It was no doubt in pursuance of this intention and, 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


299 


since the ways of such men are indeed past finding 
out, in search no doubt, also of the five pound now 
so feelingly referred to, that after he had given his 
error of judgment “time to cool,” Major Wilton be- 
gan to take gallant officers, and young scions of noble 
houses to Ashwater with him. 

He never personally conducted two at a time “round 
to Desbornes,” if both were matrimonially inclined, 
but he had so many friends, and they dropped in from 
various points of the compass so frequently, that Miss 
Simpson got at last a little tired of receiving these 
unexpected visitors, and seriously thought of speaking 
to Thomas Desborne on the subject. 

But no woman placed in such a position likes to ac- 
knowledge herself unequal to the trust, and as she 
could not see that anyone of the gentlemen who passed 
in review was recognized by Aileen as her ideal hero, 
she wisely held her peace and allowed the Major to 
come and go with his friends, none of whom seemed 
more impressed by the heiress than she seemed by 
them. 

Though they might have been roughly divided into 
three classes, one that said “aw,” another that said 
“ah,” and a third that said, thoughtfully, “yes — yes — 
yes, yes, yes, yes,” like a slow double knock, they had 
sense enough to see the Major’s “good word” was 
not likely to carry them far into Miss Simpson’s favor 
or the good graces of her charge, while, on the other 
hand, Aileen, even if one of their own rank, would not 
have attracted them. 

They put the matter plainly and firmly to their host 
and declined a second call. 

“No, thankee, it is more than I can stand,” said one 
very candid youth. 

“ Howl wish I were forty years younger,” exclaimed 
the Major in disgust. “Question of a million going 
a-begging.” For it is this, fortunes grow, though the 
possessor receives never a farthing of dividend on the 
added capital.” 


300 


THE HEAD OF THE FIBM, 


Meanwhile, the liking between Miss Wilton and 
Aileen struck root and flourished. Though they were 
opposite as the poles, though they had scarcely a 
thought in common, though they had been born in dif- 
ferent ranks, and each a different way of looking, not 
merely over the broad field of life, but on the simplest 
trifles of their every-day experience they grew fond of 
each other. 

To Aileen it seemed passing strange to own a girl 
friend, a lady, beautiful, accomplished, accustomed to 
the ways of society, learned in everything of which she 
was ignorant, while to Caroline Wilton, the simplicity, 
the honesty, the fearless truthfulness of this new ac- 
quaintance seemed nothing less than marvellous. 

“ If I had always known you,” she said, one day, “ I 
might have been good,” and Aileen did not answer, 
“ You are good,” because she had more than a vague 
feeling that Miss Wilton was not anything of the 
sort. She only answered, “ I have often been very 
cross and discontented,” which was a nice way of get- 
ting out of the difficulty. 

There were times when Aileen found the burden of 
this acquaintanceship heavy, when she found it impos- 
sible quite to keep silence about the past and hard to 
speak concerning her antecedents. With Miss Simp- 
son this awkwardness had never arisen, because that 
lady perforce knew she came from the people, but 
Miss Wilton so politely and persistently treated her as 
though she had always been the possessor of ample 
means, embarrassing positions occasionally arose which 
it was necessary to face. As, for example, when Miss 
Wilton said it was stupid for them to address each 
other formally. 

“Call me Carrie,” she suggested, “and I will call 
you — no, I can’t improve on Aileen. It is rather a 
mouthful to be sure, but a very sweet one.” 

There was a moment’s silence, during which what 
Major Wilton gallantly styled the “wild rose leaf’* 
color fluttered into Aileen’s cheeks, then — 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


301 


“Before you make suck a friend of me, I think you 
ought to know who I am,” answered the girl, in a low, 
but perfectly distinct voice. 

“You are a dear, and that is enough for me,” re- 
turned Miss Wilton, who was secretly dying to know 
all about the heiress’s antecedents. 

“ My father was a butler, and my mother a lady’s 
maid.” For the first time in her life Aileen felt ashamed 
of stating what her parents’ honest avocations had 
been, and felt ashamed because she was ashamed, for 
which reason probably she looked her companion very 
straight in the face and lifted her head a little proudly 
as she spoke. 

“ I am sure I should have loved your mother and re- 
spected your father,” replied Miss Wilton, kissing the 
hot flushed face. “Aileen, you are a darling.*’ 

“ They were so good, I did love them so much, I 
have been so lonely since they died,” said Aileen, softly. 

“ My mother died when I was only a child,” re- 
marked Miss Wilton, who could not believe in anyone 
caring for her parents at all, but thought it was proper 
to make some remark. “ I scarcely remember her. She 
must have been very glad to get out of this world and 
away from my dad, I should think. I wonder what 
made her marry him, for he was not young — fifty or 
thereabouts — and had no money.” 

“I know what made my father and mother marry,” 
rejoined Aileen, “they loved one another.” 

“ That is what you think you will marry for one of 
these days, I suppose — love ” 

“Unless I do I shall not marry at all.” 

“ Has Mr. Eight come along yet? ” 

“ No.” 

“Sure?” 

“ Quite sure.” 

“ No one hidden in the bushes ? ** 

“No one anywhere.” 

“If another girl told me that, I should believe she 
was telling me a tarradiddle,” 


302 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“I am not.” 

This was natural enough talk, yet it made Aileen 
feel strangely older and younger at one and the same 
time, younger simply because it was natural, older for 
the reason that it put new ideas into her mind and 
filled her with a vague unrest. 

Marriage might be for Miss Wilton, but for her 
never. She did not want to marry, yet all girls look 
forward half unconsciously to being wooed and wed. 
In all stations it is to them the fairy tale of life, and 
who that has loved would wish then to have the tale 
unread ? All her early life Aileen had been too busy, 
too much oppressed with care, too anxious about the 
needs of to-morrow, too despondent concerning the 
tempers of to-day for indulgence in such fancies, but 
now, when she had nothing to occupy her long leisure, 
she could not help listening to the talk which went on 
concerning lovers and husbands, men who proposed 
and women who accepted engagements, trousseaux and 
weddings. Yes, it was all natural and pleasant enough, 
but not for her, it could never be for her. Because 
she knew well enough that if any fine gentleman came 
wooing, it would not be for love. Someone might 
wish for her money, but how could she care for any 
one who wanted only that. 

She had learned many things, but the more she 
learned made her only the more certain, she could 
never become a lady. She might cease to be so awk- 
ward, she might grow a little less shy and afraid of the 
sound of her own voice, but she never could change her- 
self, never be other than Aileen Fermoy, never be other 
than a very homely young woman who could no more 
be instructed in the mysteries of fashionable life than 
in the approved methods of improving her appearance. 

She regarded Miss Wilton’s aids to beauty with 
amazement, not to say fear. 

“ Do you think it is right?” she would timidly say, 
only to find her hesitating remonstrance checked by a 
peal of laughter and the reply. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


303 


If all men had thought as you do we should still 
be wearing fig-leaves ! ” 

For her, there would come no prince, no knight, no 
hero, no life companion ! Such men as she had known 
in the old days she could never think of as lovers, 
and even if in the days which were present she 
saw anyone to be liked and admired, her liking and 
admiration must turn to contempt and aversion the 
moment he professed to care for her. 

Since that could not be true, no gentleman might 
ever love her, and she knew it was better to remain 
single for life than to marry except for love and to be 
beloved. 

All this while if she had looked with less critical 
eyes at her own reflection in the glass, she would have 
seen that she was daily improving in appearance. 

No one could have wished the original Aileen to 
disappear, but a something previously overlaid with 
care and toil was coming quietly into sight. 

Just as from the bare earth there emerges first 
one green shoot, and then another, so out of the 
dreariness of her gray past there sprang at last into 
sight leaf and bud and flower of beauty. Rest, peace 
and the association of those who had lived well and 
lain softly, and experienced that modest luxury the 
toiling poor know nothing of, were doing their gracious 
part. The hard lines anxiety had began to trace were 
smoothed away, the harassed expression her face had 
loo often worn was gone, time was hers to braid and 
coil that wealth of hair and dress well ; if with the plain- 
ness she thought only fitting, her speech was more 
suitable to Shawn Fermoy’s heiress than her former 
mode of address had been, she could understand topics 
of the day when people spoke about them, and take an 
interest in general conversation though she did not 
often join in it. 

She made a fair picture as she sat with the early 
spring sunshine falling across the old world chronicles 
she delighted to read. 


304 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ Really, she is growing quite presentable,” decided 
Miss Simpson, one fine Sunday afternoon, when the 
girl stood beside a window which overlooked the lawn. 

. Something in the turn of her head, in the restfulness 
of her quiet face, in the pose of her figure struck the 
older woman with a feeling of surprise. 

“ It is a long time since we have seen Mr. Thomas 
Desborne,” she said, “ I wonder if he will be down to- 
day.” 

The wish was father to the thought, but in addition 
to any personal feeling it crossed her mind that if one 
who remembered Aileen so well as she once was, could 
look at her, then, he would be more than satisfied. 

“ I hope he may come,” answered Aileen, turning 
from the window. “ Sunday always seems twice a 
Sunday when he spends it with us.” 

“He is indeed one in a thousand,” agreed Miss 
Simpson, “ but there is the bell. No doubt it is he.” 

It was not Mr. Thomas Desborne, however, but 
Major and Miss Wilton and General Van Berg, of 
whom Aileen had heard as an unwished-for suitor. 

“ My old friend is staying with us over Sunday,” 
observed Major Wilton, “and I could not resist bring- 
ing him round to pay his respects to you and Miss 
Fermoy.” 

The General was short, stout, and sixty, only eleven 
years younger than his would-be father-in-law, and 
thirty-eight years older than the blooming creature he 
wished to marry. She looked lovelier than ever ; her 
hair, a little blown about by the wind which had like- 
wise deepened the usually delicate color in her cheeks 
to a rich damask. Her eyes were bright with excite- 
ment, and her speech and manner so vivacious as to 
suggest the idea that she wished to shock her elderly 
admirer. 

Miss Simpson, always polite and always fond of visi- 
tors, welcomed the trio very cordially, found them 
comfortable chairs, made the usual remarks about the 
weather, the Thames, and the neighborhood, and had 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


305 


just begun a treatise on the excellence of their clergy- 
man and the especial eloquence of the sermon he 
preached that morning, at a service unhappily not 
patronized by Major Wilton and his daughter, for 
reasons connected with the General, when once again 
the door-bell woke every echo in Ashwater House. 

“ What visitor have we now ? ” asked the Major, who 
had the charming knack of making himself very much 
at home everywhere. 

I daresay it is Mr. Thomas Desborne,” said Miss 
Simpson, mindful of Aileen’s remark. 

“ Confound him ! ” thought Major Wilton, who often 
told his daughter he did not “think much” of the 
gentleman in question. 

When Mr. Desborne, however, appeared, instead of 
his uncle, glorious summer weather instantly succeeded 
to the winter of this discontent. 

“ It is a privilege I have often desired,” he said in his 
best manner. 

“I am delighted,” added Miss Wilton with her 
sweetest smile. “I have so long wished to know you, 
Mr. Desborne.” 

General Van Berg also, if he were to be believed, 
had passed a considerable period of his life in hoping 
the auspicious day might dawn which would witness 
his introduction to one he had so often heard spoken of 
in the highest terms. 

By the time these amenities were happily ended, 
twilight was drawing on, and Miss Simpson thought 
tea would be a welcome diversion. Once more the 
visitors formed a charmed circle, and conversation, 
stimulated by Mr. Desborne’s latest news from London, 
and “ the cup which cheers,” was in full progress when 
i again the hall door-bell rang and Mr. Thomas Desborne 
I walked in, accompanied by Philip Yernham. 

“ Why, what good wind has blown you here,” asked 
Mr. Desborne, shaking the young man’s hand cor- 
dially. 

“We were at Hampton Court and thought we would 


806 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


take Teddington on our way back/’ explained the other 
Mr. Desborne, answering his nephew^’s question. 

“Great crush at the Palace, I suppose ? ” said Major 
Wilton. 

“On the contrary, the rooms were almost empty. 
The Hampton Court season cannot be said to begin 
till Good Friday.” 

“ Place I never go to,” observed Major Wilton, with 
the air of a man giving his audience information, 
“awfully caddish.” 

“ It is a place I delight in,” returned Mr. Thomas 
Desborne, calmly. 

“ So do I,” said Aileen, unable to resist the tempta- 
tion of openly siding with her friend. 

“ So do not I,” remarked Miss Wilton. 

At sound of the girl’s sweet incisive voice, Philip 
Vernham looked round quickly. The room was in 
partial darkness, being only lighted by some fitfully 
blazing logs. Miss Simpson cherished a fondness for 
the gloaming, perhaps because of its kindly shadows, 
and always deferred the evil hour of gas or lamps as 
long as possible, for which reason Mr. Vernham, till 
IVIiss Wilton spoke, only understood there was a third 
lady present, whether young or old he could not 
tell. 

“ Allow me to introduce Mr. Vernham to you. Miss 
Wilton,” said Mr. Desborne, genially, the while the 
General took occasion to state : 

“lam very partial to Hampton Court.” 

“ Are you ? ” returned his lady love, after acknowl- 
edging with a distant inclination, Philip’s formal bow. 

“ Yes, it is a grand old pile,” answered her ancient 
admirer, valorously picking up the gage she flung 
down. “ Many a pleasant hour I have spent there.” 

“ Admiring the beauties, no doubt?” 

“Monstrous fine women, many of them.” 

“ Frights you mean,” Miss Wilton suggested, con- 
temptuously. 

“ Certainly not,” returned the brave general. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 307 

“How they ever came to be painted, I can’t con- 
ceive.” 

“ It is a strange thing,” observed Miss Wilton’s ad- 
mirer, addressing the company at large, “that no 
pretty woman can see any beauty in another woman, 
living or dead.” 

“Bet you a tenner,” said the pretty woman who 
furnished the text for this well-worn platitude which 
she scorned to take any direct notice. “ Bet you a 
tenner if the lot were on sale in some broker’s shop, no 
person would be crazy enough to give five shillings 
for one of them.” 

“ I won’t bet with you again, young lady,” retorted 
the General. “ Last time we had a Httle affair on you 
refused to pay ! ” 

He had the best of the argument for once. Miss 
Wilton did not answer. AVhatever the nature of that 
wager might have been, she deemed it prudent to 
change the subject by asking Miss Simpson if she 
might light the lamps, for “talking in the dark is like 
dancing without music,” she declared. 

Three gentlemen rose to save her trouble, and as 
one of them for the first time saw her face clearly he 
felt fairly startled by its beauty. 

“ I think we must be going Carrie, my dear ! ” said 
her father, taking advantage of the general move- 
ment to approach Miss Simpson in order to say fare- 
well. 

That lady, however, would not hear of such deser- 
tion, and Mr. Desborne, never backward in proffering 
hospitality, seconded her invitation. 

“ You must stay for supper,” he said. “We always 
have supper early on Sunday evening,” and nothing 
loth Major Wilton, for self and friends, consented. 

“Pleasantest meal in the day,” he answered in poHte 
acceptance, while the General, who would have stayed 
anywhere for any meal if a glass of decent wine loomed 
even in the remote distance, again assured Mr. Des- 
borne that he felt delighted to make his acquaintance, 


308 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


and was glad to avail himself of the opportunity for 
knowing more of him. 

The Homewood Lodge party were all, in fact, so 
willing, and so glad, it was not until Mr. Thomas Des- 
borne feared he must be thinking about the return 
train that the pleasant party broke up. 

“ Time and tide, you know, wait for no man, unfor- 
tunately,” observed the lawyer, pleasantly. 

“ Quite true,” answered Miss Wilton, as if he had 
addressed her especially, “ though unfortunately many 
men have to wait for time and tide,” at which retort 
there was a laugh, since people often laugh for very 
little reason, in which every one joined except Mr. 
Vernham, who had maintained a wise silence and a 
judge-like gravity throughout the evening. 

“ I wanted to speak to you,” said Mr. Desborne in a 
hurried aside to Aileen, “ but I will write,” and then 
the guests gathered in the hall, cordial good-nights 
were exchanged, for a minute a bright light streamed 
out across the gravel and along the drive, then the 
door was shut, and Miss Simpson and Aileen returned 
to the now quiet drawing-room. 

“ What a pity, what a pity,” said Miss Simpson as 
she reviewed Miss Wilton’s alarmingly lively conver- 
sation. She had never before heard that young lady 
discoursing in a mixed company. “Poor girl, why 
does not some friend tell her how dreadful those slang 
phrases sound? How yon can understand what she 
means quite baffles me. I never have heard you use 
such shocking expressions yourself, yet you seem to 
comprehend them without the slightest difficult3\” 

Then in no spirit of undue pride, Aileen explained 
that where she had formerly lived, not merely did 
“ duffer,” “ screw,” “ cheek,” “ more side,” “ plenty of 
face,” and many words of the same description, quite 
divorced from their original meaning, flourish like old- 
fashioned flowers and run riot by the way-side, but 
that Battersea might be depended on to furnish at a 
moment’s notice all those choicer home and foreign 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


309 


varieties of modem language of which the Universities 
and West End drawing-rooms are supposed to pos- 
sess a monopoly. She made it clear to Miss Simp- 
son’s apprehension what Miss Wilton wished to con- 
vey by saying her father “need not jump at her,” 
for calling him a “relieving officer,” or remarking 
Sandown was not quite so “ swagger ” a race-course 
as Ascot. 

“There are some who think it very funny,” fin- 
ished Aileen,“ but I get tired of it, myself.” 

“Tired, I should think so,” exclaimed Miss Simpson, 
indignantly. “ It is not English, it is not Christian 
for any girl to make such an exhibition of herself. I 
felt quite ashamed to think IVIr. Thomas Desborne 
should have heard her, and as for poor Mr. Vernham, 
I am certain he was utterly scandalized, and no won- 
der.” 

Whatever Mr. Thomas Desborne and poor Mr. Vern- 
ham may have thought about Miss Wilton’s shortcom- 
ings, nothing was said on the subject till the two 
gentlemen were walking up Pilgrim Street on their way 
home. 

Then the former asked, “ How did Major Wilton and 
General Van Berg impress you ? ” 

“ They impressed me as the worst form possible,” 
was the unhesitating reply. 

“ The girl is very beautiful.” 

There was just an instant’s hesitation before Mr. 
Vernham answered, “ very.” 

“It is a pity she is so slangy,” went on Mr. Des- 
borne, “ but I am told all young ladies affect that sort 
of thing now.” 

“ They may, I don’t know, my acquaintance is very 
limited.” 

“Miss Wilton appears to be extremely amiable, 
however. She has taken our young friend Miss 
Fermoy in hand, and is teaching her what Miss 
Simpson could not, viz., music. That is, she has 
discovered the girl possesses a good voice and an 


310 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


excellent ear and is instructing her to accompany her- 
self.” 

“ That is very kind,” said Mr. Vernham. “I think I 
must leave you here. Good-night. Thank you for a 
most pleasant day.” 


CHAPTER Xm 


WANTED INEORMATION. 

What Mr. Tovey wanted to know was how Mr. Des- 
borne met those bills ? 

They were for a large amount, they were bills not at 
all in the ordinary course of business. Mr. Tovey 
quite understood the proceeds were required to fill 
some purely private gap which was yawning to an in- 
conveniently wide extent ; they were bills not made 
payable as ought to have been the case, at Mr. Des- 
borne’s bank, or office, or dwelling-house ; they were 
bills to be ashamed of and kept secret ; they were as 
things accursed, which no clerk, or servant, or relative, 
was to touch or even see ; they were bills the drawer 
felt satisfied the acceptor would require his assistance to 
meet — yet the acceptor did not ask for such assistance ! 

Instead, he went in a hansom to Mr. Tovey’s bank 
and “honored” the “nefarious documents” at the 
eleventh hour, it is true, but still a good fifty minutes 
before the stroke of doom. 

Mr. Tovey, who chanced to be “ hovering around,” 
saw Mr. Desborne return through the swinging doors, 
and augured ill from the weary way he walked across 
the pavement, and his tired look as he directed the 
cabman where to diive next, but the bills were all 
right ; they were not protested ; they paid no fatal, if 
flying, visit to any notary ; they never returned to the 
drawer with that significant inch of paper attached, 
the writing on which means ruin or the beginning of 
ruin, and is plain to the initiated as that legend Daniel 
interpreted for Belshazzar. 


312 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


There were none of these things, and Mr. Tovey nat- 
urally wanted to know why. 

Mr. Desbome could have told him, but Mr. Des- 
borne did not, which perhaps was a pity, for Mr. To- 
vey, in sinte of his many peculiarities, was not by any 
means a bad fellow, and he liked the lawyer. The law- 
yer, however, did not like him, and had made uj) his 
mind he would do anything and face anything rather 
than endure such another evening’s ‘‘heckling” as 
that he experienced when his moneyed friend ate 
grapes and raised quite a cairn of filbert shells at Ash- 
water. 

Few men can bear being “ heckled ” with equan- 
imity, particularly when troubled about money mat- 
ters, and though he was careful to conceal what he 
felt, Mr. Desborne grew at last to chafe under the most 
ordinary questioning, like a restive horse. 

There were indeed times before and after those bills 
arrived at their full stature, when his uncle could 
scarcely put the simplest business to him without caus- 
ing exquisite pain. The torments he passed through 
while Mr. Tovey’s drafts were maturing no man sus- 
pected. All the while Care, that cunning sculptor, 
who works so much more thoroughly than Time, was 
graving indelible lines on his pleasant face. He met 
the world’s scrutiny with a smile, and answered its 
greeting almost as cheerily as of old, but the man’s 
heart was changed ! The elasticity of his once happy, 
buo3''ant nature had left him to return never more. 
The amount of practical knowledge crowded into those 
three months by that merciless schoolmaster, Experi- 
ence, could not be imagined save by the initiated. It 
is only those who have been “through the mill” who 
can tell how “ exceedingly small ” the stones grind ; 
how every fibre, every nerve, is racked during the 
process. 

Mr. Desborne soon grew to understand what the 
rack meant, if he never understood before. From the 
hour he signed his name across those drafts, his busi- 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


313 


ness education — previously neglected — may be said to 
have begun. 

First, he learned one truth never before suspected, 
though he ought to have been acquainted with it, 
namely, that money so raised goes no way at all ; and 
second, the absolute accuracy of Mr. Tovey’s statement 
concerning the rapidity with which time travels while a 
bill is coming due. 

It is a gracious provision of Providence that a sover- 
eign earned will purchase about three times as much as 
a sovereign borroTved, and as to Time’s rate of pro- 
gression during the ninety-five days breathing space 
allowed to the unhappy debtor, why the speed of light 
was but dawdling by comparison. 

Literally the days flew ; once there had been an in- 
terval between breakfast and luncheon, luncheon and 
dinner, but once he sold himself into captivity Mr. 
Desborne found there was no pause whatever. 

Dull November went its way, the dark days before 
Christmas came, that merry season with its constant 
cry for money — money for needful tips, for presents, 
for superabundant feasting, for pale-faced flowers and 
prickly holly — fled by in turn, only to give place to a 
Happy New Year, inaugurated by heavy bills deliv- 
ered, by respectful compliments, and requests for 
checks, and still time dashed on with the speed of an 
express train, and Mr. Desborne felt as though he had 
travelled hundreds and thousands of miles, when, sud- 
denly, the first of February came, and he found him- 
self almost at the terminus of the “three months after 
date” business, with nothing to meet his engage- 
ments. 

It was then some leaden weight seemed to drop 
down in his heart with a heavy thud. From the first 
he knew this time must come, and now it had come. 

On that November evening which, in spite of the 
frantic pace of Time’s express, looked now to Mr. Des- 
borne’s memory so far and far away, what did he expect 
to happen that would enable him to keep faith with his 


314 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


own signature? He had no idea whatever. Wonder- 
ful things do happen occasionally, but he could not re- 
member at all why he then expected a miracle to be 
wrought for him. 

If thdughts could have provided money for those 
bills they had been met over and over again, because, 
indeed, he may be said to have thought of nothing else 
for months. But thoughts are not actions, as the 
state of his exchequer proved. It is of no use for a 
man to lie awake at night forming plans unless he car- 
ry them out next day. It is worse than useless for 
him to start from troubled dreams if he fail to take 
such measures as shall prevent those dreams from be- 
coming terrible realities. 

He had been as one at sea without an oar or rudder, 
rushing to cry to this one and to that for help, and yet 
uttering never a sound ; and now the rocks were with- 
in measurable distance, and he could do nothing to 
avert the impending catastrophe, unless he chose to 
take counsel with his uncle or Mr. Tovey. The latter 
had written a little memorandum, “Do not forget the 
8tli,’ just as if any human being so placed were likely 
to forget it. As well say to a man left for execution, 

“ Do not forget Monday morning, when you are to be 
hung by the neck.” 

A natural instinct impelled him to reply irrita- 
bly, but his legal instinct compelled him to be care- 
ful. 

“ I have not forgotten,” was the compromise effect- 
ed between the two. “I have not forgotten,” which 
might mean he was still in possession of his faculties, . 
but which certainly gave no assurance that he was in 
possession of the necessary amount of cash. t 

Mr. Tovey knew as well as anybody the ways and > 
manners of individuals who rashly put pen to paper, j 
particularly to stamped paper, read the four words of ( 
reply in this latter sense, and posted to Mr. Desborne’s 
house a longer memorandum which contained a caution ■ 
not to let the bills, be dishonored. “ If you are unable ; 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 315 

to manage the full amount, come to me ; only do not 
drive matters off till the last minute.” 

It was like lashing a horse already wild with fright. 
Mr. Desborne scarcely knew what he was doing, but 
the well-meant suggestion only determined him to have 
no more dealings with Mr. Tovey. Perhaps had he 
seen his way to scrape together part of the amount, he 
might have been tempted by so insidious an offer ; 
but not having a penny in hand or any proposal to 
make, he no doubt felt he might, in vulgar parlance, as 
well be hung for a cow as a calf. 

If he had to go to his uncle Mr. Tovey’s assistance 
would be unnecessary ; if he did not go to his uncle 
any partial renewals could serve no purpose whatever. 
For these and other reasons he took no notice of Mr. 
Tovey’s latest note, only answering it by a dignified 
silence, which induced his creditor to expect the 
worst. 

And all this time Mr. Desborne was suffering tor- 
ments, in comparison with which lakes of fire and 
brimstone seemed to him mere child’s play. 

He was learning the full meaning of bills payable ; 
he was more than beginning to understand the agonies 
those struggling men must have endured whom he had 
seen in the days of his own prosperity rushing into 
banks while the hands of the clock were travelling to- 
ward the stroke of four, and paying in their hardly- 
gathered money, only that they might secure the 
doubtful privilege of carrying on a losing game for 
some few toilsome months or years longer. Vaguely, 
too, it was borne in upon him how hard it is for a capi- 
talist to remain a lenient creditor. The business man 
who does not insist on his pound of flesh is very likely 
ere long to have no pound of flesh to insist on ; while 
as for money-lenders, Mr. Desborne felt that if those 
gentlemen could only be induced not to ask so many 
questions an intending borrower who knew anything 
of the difficulty of repayment might forgive them for 
not lending at all. 


316 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


From experience further he was becoming acquainted 
with the torments of Tantalus. Fair fruit and spark- 
ling waters were within his reach, yet he dare not slake 
his thirst with the one nor stretch forth his hand to 
pluck the other. 

In the bank with which Desborne & Son kept the 
firm’s account there were thousands of pounds lying 
quite idle. A heavy mortgage had been paid off some 
time previously, and the amount left in safe custody 
till such time as the owner might request it to be for- 
warded to him, an event likely to happen any day. 
There, however, meantime it remained, making the 
firm’s balance exceptionally heavy, and causing the 
head of that firm to feel certain there existed in the 
mode of distributing wealth some tremendous in- 
justice. 

Perhaps it was thinking about the sum of money 
Desborne & Son’s bankers were probably turning over 
and over again with much profit to themselves which 
made Mr. Desborne wonder whether his own pri- 
vate bankers could assist him in his need. He had 
not much security to offer, but perhaps gentlemen 
with whom his father and grandfather had done busi- 
ness might regard his request favorably and refrain 
from impertinent questioning and disagreeable com- 
ment. 

That certainly was a notion worth considering ; un- 
happily, however, it was one which the more Mr. Des- 
borne considered the less he felt inclined to carry out. 

There was so many things against it ; first, he must 
tell his bankers he was short of money ; next the 
state of his account, long drawn so close that if re- 
plenished one week it looked weak and poverty-stricken 
a fortnight after — a terribly shaky account, so shaky no 
banker in his senses could be expected to strengthen 
it with a loan. Preferring such a request might also 
damage his credit, and draw attention to the state of 
his affairs. No, that would not do, and yet what was 
he to do ? 


TUB HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


317 


He must ask some one ; lie could but be refused. 
After being refused he might go to his uncle. A few 
hours more and the three months, which in prospect 
had seemed so long, would have vanished utterly, and 
the three days of grace only be left ? What was it 
possible to do in three days ? 

With a heavy heart he involuntarily worked out this 
rule-of-three sum. Given that in ninety-two days he 
had not been able to provide for even one of the bills, 
what likelihood was there of his finding funds to meet 
all of them in three ? 

To an impecunious man there is no science so de 
testable as arithmetic, and Mr. Desborne while vainly/ 
striving to make two and two three or five, as the 
case might be, had long felt he hated it with all his 
soul. 

Hating or liking would not, hpwever, help him to 
solve the problem of how to get money. 

“ I will go to my bankers,” he decided, “ they can 
but say ‘No,’” and, indeed, there was nothing more 
sure than they would say “ No,” but still even the 
shadow of hope that they might answer “ Yes ” seemed 
such a comfort. Mr. Desborne feared to put his fortune 
to the test and leave himself no alternative save an in- 
terview with his uncle. On the whole, he thought he 
would rather let any amount of dishonor be heaped 
on those wretched bills and leave Mr. Tovey to do his 
worst, but he could not exactly forecast what that worst 
might prove, and felt that if he had to go to his bankers 
at last he had better adopt that disagreeable course at 
first. “ I will go to them,” he repeated, with greater 
emphasis than before, “ this afternoon.” 

With the afternoon, however, came another excuse 
for further delay. “ I shall be fresher in the morn- 
ing,” he thought. “Having made up my mind as to 
what I am going to do, perhaps I shall sleep better to- 
night. Yes, I will leave the matter over till to- 
morrow, and call at the bank on my way to Cloak 
Lane.” 


318 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


Morning found him no more inclined for the inter- 
view he had overnight so firmly determined to seek, 
than the previous afternoon had done. 

“ I may as well just call in at the office first,” he said 
to himself, “ and then I can devote myself to the busi- 
ness in hand.” 

If the business so glibly referred to meant that 
impending interview it was destined never to take 
place. 

At Messrs. Desborne & Son’s the custom prevailed 
of leaving all letters for the firm, as weU as for Mr. 
Thomas Desborne, on that gentleman’s table, while 
those addressed to his nephew were carried into the 
room memorable to Aileen as the scene of her first 
interview. 

It was not because he expected any important com- 
munication that the Head of the Firm bent his steps 
to Cloak Lane and entered his office before going on 
to his bank. All he wanted was to delay the evil hour, 
and, influenced by this desire, he turned over his letters 
and proceeded to read them leisurely. 

He had thus worked his way almost to the end, when 
he drew from its envelope one enclosure, the contents 
of which caused the hot blood to rush into his face and 
immediately after fade away leaving him pale as death. 

For a moment the writing grew blurred and indis- 
tinct before his eyes, there sounded a strange humming 
in his ears, something seemed to come between him 
and the light of day, he felt as though the room were 
reeling round, then the sudden faintness passed off 
and he knew he was sitting in his accustomed place 
with a number of letters before him, the cold February 
sunshine falling across the carpet and regilding the 
lettering of his law books. 

Filling a glass with water he emptied it at a draught, 
after which he remained for a while with his elbows 
resting on the table and his hands supporting his head, 
trying, as Mr. Tripsdale would have jauntily said, “ to 
pull himself together.” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


319 


When he had done this to a certain extent and glanced 
over the few remaining letters, he put them all on one 
side with the exception of that short epistle which had 
produced such an effect. 

This he scanned again before taking it upstairs to 
his uncle’s room. 

He found IMr. Thomas Desbome very busy with 
his correspondence, making abstracts, penciling notes, 
instructing Mr. Knevitt — so busy, indeed, that he did 
not look up while answeiing his nephew’s good-morn- 
ing, but merely pushed some folios toward him, add- 
ing, “ I wish you would give these matters your at- 
tention to-day.” 

“ Certainly,” answered Mr. Desbome, making a des- 
perate effort to “ pull himself more together,” and then 
he laid the paper he carried before his uncle, observing, 
“that has just come.” 

Mr. Thomas Desbome read the memorandum, for it 
was little more, without the smallest evidence of feel- 
ing. It did not affect him in the least, indeed there 
was not the slightest reason why it should have done so. 

“ Very well I ” was his tranquil comment as he pushed 
the communication back^o his nephew. “Is it worth 
while placing the amount on deposit?” 

“I think not,” said Mr. Desbome. “At all events 
we may as well leave that over till after I have seen 
him. You see he will be passing through London in 
a few days.” 

“True, things had better remain as they are.” 

Mr. Desbome went down-stairs again and shut him- 
self up with the folios, to which he tried to give his 
best attention. Quite unsuccessfully, however, for Mr. 
Tovey’s bills played at leap-frog over the text and 
scrawled “Three months after date ” in mighty letters 
across the clear, formal writing, which purported to set 
forth how, on a certain day in a certain year of grace, 
John Jones in consideration of, and all the rest of it, 
“undertook for himself, his heirs, and assigns, etc.” 

“I must go out and get my brain cleared,” thought 


320 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


Mr. Desborne as “value received,” which had nothing 
in the world to do with John Jones, took a header over 
“ accepted payable ” and came down flat on “ to Ed- 
ward Desborne, Esq., Ashwater, Teddington.” 

“ This is enough to drive a man mad.’’ 

Accordingly he went out and took a cheerful walk 
about the network of lanes that at one time ran direct 
from Cannon Street to Thames Street, but are now dis- 
sected by Queen Victoria Street and the Daylight Eoute 
Railway. He came, in the course of his travels, as 
people who roam without a purpose anywhere in Lon- 
don are sure to do, upon yards and courts and funny 
out-of-the-way little nooks strange and unfamiliar ; he 
got to the backs of accustomed churches ; he saw little 
shops crushed into unexpected corners ; he found where 
beadles lived, and where the inhabitants were informed 
they ought to apply in case of fire. He beheld grimy 
children and little girls in clean white pinafores, and 
grew interested and forgot, for the time being, why he 
was making such a pilgrimage, and the fact that a per- 
son of the name of Tovey existed and was very much 
in evidence. When he got to St. Mary Somerset, of 
which church he had to ask the name, so ignorant was 
he of most matters appertaining to the city lying out 
of his ordinary routine, a dim recollection recurred to 
him of having when a lad attended service with his 
uncle, who afterward took him along many streets, 
alleys, and hills in search of lanes which no longer ex- 
isted, having been swept out of the way and off the 
maps by the besom of civilization. 

He could remember him standing at one particular 
point and saying : “It was just about here Desborne 
Lane started, running south to Thames Street, and I 
feel little doubt, though the old histories are silent on 
the subject, that one of our ancestors lived in a fair 
house near this. So late as seventeen hundred and 
ninety Lambert Hill was inhabited by private families, 
but we probably were driven from our home at the 
time of the great fire, when the old churches of St. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


321 


Nicholas, Cole Abbey, and St. Michael, Queenhifche, 
were destroyed, as well as the residences of many per- 
sons of wealth and consideration.” 

Across the past came faint but clear the echoes from 
that long-ago time ; on that spot they had stayed, as 
words breathed into a telephone and sealed up will re- 
main for long till called on to give up their sound to 
ears that can never hear them as they would have heard 
them once, and now Mr. Desborne listened to those 
strange echoes with a feeling of pain which was well- 
nigh unendurable. He had been a boy then and his 
uncle a comparatively young man, and now — and now 
if Mr. Thomas Desborne knew of the straits to which 
the last of his line was reduced it would break his heart 
and humble his pride into the dust. 

“ He must never know, never ” — and Mr. Desborne, 
from out whose breast for a few minutes seven devils 
had been cast, hurried on with a legion tearing and 
tormenting him. 

“ Why, what are you doing in these remote wilds ? ” 
asked a voice at his elbow. “ Coming to see me ? ” 

“Well, no,” answered the other, as he shook the 
hand of a cheery, pleasant-faced man with great cordi- 
ality. “The fact is ” 

“ Never mind what the fact is, as you are here come 
along to my diggings and tell me all the news. Why, 
it is an age since I’ve seen you — two years next Easter. 
You are not looking yourself. What’s the matter ? ” 

“Bit of cold ; overworked a little, too.” 

“ Oh ! I dare say ! ” 

“It is the case, Tranmere. These are times when 
the laziest of us must give helping hand to push the 
business cart along.” 

“ I did not think you would have given that helping 
hand, though.” 

“ And why ? ” 

“ Because there is no need ; you are be3^ond the 
world, and are not one to cotton to work — real work, I 
mean.” 


322 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“I don’t know; as a man grows older I fancy he 
begins to like business rather than otherwise.” 

“It does not agree with you, then, for you are not 
looking well.” 

They turned into a house in Knightrider Street, 
which so far progress had spared, excepting to convert 
from a dwelling into offices. It was not a mansion or 
picturesque, but Mr. Desborne liked the easy tread of 
the stairs and the broad balustrade, and the oak balus- 
ters blackened with age, and the deep window-seats in 
which children had hidden themselves behind the 
curtains and lovers had pledged their vows. Not a 
very old house, yet old enough to have passed through 
all sorts of changes. It had been inhabited by families 
of medium class, and afterward let out as offices ; then 
it was changed into a shop, and, last of all, some one 
took the place who used the ground floor as a ware- 
house and the first floor for a light manufacturing 
business, and let the second floor to Mr. Tranmere, ; 
and the third to a vellum binder, for the lease ■ was J 
nearly out, and when it expired the building would be .j 
pulled down and improved off the face of the earth, j 
pending which final disappearance the question was to ! 
get as much rent as possible out of the rooms with 
their oak floors and low ceilings' and smoke-stained 
wooden chimney-pieces, ornamented by trailing gar- f 
lands and flowers and fat cupids blowing impossible i 
horns. 

Mr. Tranmere placed a chair beside the battered 
office-table and asked his visitor to be seated. All the ^ 
furniture looked as though it had been bought at dif- ^ 
ferent periods from the refuse of some broker’s stock. 
The floor-covering was a mere strip taken apparently j 
off some immense Turkey carpet that had done good 4 
service at aldermanic feasts, the leather on the table J 
was worn and hacked, the many mahogany chairs j 
were of various patterns and in divers degrees of di- 3 
lapidation ; there 'was nothing modern in the room i,' 
save a handsome envelope case and a substantial safe, H j 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 323 

from out of which Mr. Tranmere produced a decanter 
and two wineglasses. 

“ You won’t get such Madeira as this every day, let 
you pay what price you like,” he remarked, as he 
poured out the wine. “ Drink that up, it will do you 
good ; there is not a headache in a hogshead.” 

“ You were always a rare judge of wine, Tranmere.” 

Ah ! you are thinking of that old brown sherry. 
That was a sherry if you like ! and till old Conister 
dies I don’t know where any one will get its equal.” 

“Who is old Conister, and why must the world wait 
until his decease for super-excellent brown sherry ? ” 

“Old Conister made half a million of money out of 
turkey-red cotton handkerchiefs, and the' best old- 
fashioned wines in England are in his cellars at Great 
Geris. If you want good wine or good pictures you 
must go to the East of London. When a city man 
knows anything he knows more than most people, and 
when he is a judge at all his judgments may be de- 
pended upon.” 

Mr. Tranmere was not, perhaps, exactly the person 
whom one would have invited to meet lords and dukes 
and princes of the blood at a select party, but a 
heartier, siippler, pleasanter, better fellow never came 
to business at nine o’clock every working morning. 
He had no fads, no ambitions, no crazes, no injuries. 
He took the world as he found it, and for the most 
part he found it very good. 

He felt no wild desire to undertake the task of re- 
forming human nature. He did not bore people about 
his misfortunes or his triumphs. He was not swift to 
take offences or given to meet trouble half way. He 
i never asked impertinent or fishing questions, and no 
1 person need have feared writing or speaking freely to 
him, because, as he explained, “I burn all letters ex- 
cept those which concern my own business, and I never 
talk about affairs that have nothing to do with me.” 

In his then state of mind Mr. Desborne felt it was 
a distinct comfort to sit for even a few minutes in 


324 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


that quiet room and look at his host’s ruddy, honest 
face. 

“ How are you getting on ? ” he asked, knowing quite 
■well tlie reply would be satisfactory. 

“As usual,” Mr. Tranmere answered, laughingly. 
“ I am not making a spoon, but on the other hand 1 
am not spoiling a horn. I have never jDrayed Agur’s 
prayer, and yet his petition has been granted to me. 
Vanity is far enough removed from my path, I am not 
rich, but, on the other hand, I am not afraid that I shall 
die in the workhouse, as I might have done had I got 
what I at one time wanted.” 

“Would it be intrusive ?” 

“ To ask what I did want,” finished Mr. Tranmere. 
“Not in the least; I wanted a wife, and a particular 
girl to be my wife. Happily she saw matters differ- 
ently, and said ‘No.’ Her refusal cut me up a good 
deal at the time. I thought life, after a fashion, was 
ended for me, but a friend advised a sea voyage, and 
when I came back again I found my heart was not 
broke, and that she was married to a man whom she 
has twice landed in the bankruptcy court. I never 
could have kept my head above .water if she had said 
‘Yes.’ 

Mr. Desborne made no comment, but considered 
how passing strange it is that the simplest conversation 
should have such a knack of fitting itself to the inmost 
thoughts of those who are conversing. Start talk how 
one will it has the power of veering round to the sub- 
ject most to be avoided. Extravagant wives who led 
their husbands into difficulties was a theme not much 
to his taste. He would break fresh ground. 

“ Is that nice young clerk whom you liked so much 
still with you ? ” he asked, casting about for something 
to say. 

“No, he discharged himself.” 

“ How was that ? ” 

“ He did not like London, or rather London did not 
like him. He was far too fond of practical jokes. He 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


325 


played off one, the humor of which was not exactly 
appreciated.” 

“Indeed?” 

“Yes, he accepted a bill.” 

“ Surely not a very heinous offence,*’ said Mr. Des- 
borne, inwardly wondering whether he was ever to get 
rid of such detested topics. 

“In an ordinary way perhaps not, but he forgot 
to sign his own name ; that was where the humor 
came in.” 

“How could he accept a bill without signing his own 
name ? ” 

“By writing that of another person.” 

“ Do you mean he committed forgery ? ” 

“ The other person said so, and the drawer and the 
bank said so ; as for the young fellow himself, he de- 
clared he meant no harm.” 

“Was the other person yourself?” inquired Mr. 
Desborne. 

“Oh ! dear no, the squire of the village, who did not 
consider the matter at all humorous. My young man 
declared the whole thing was a lark, and when I point- 
ed out that such larks laid straight to the Old Bailey, 
turned sulky, and said he would leave then and there, 
which he did, after debiting himself with three pounds 
taken without my consent out of petty cash for travel- 
ling expenses. If there had been more than three 
pounds in the cash box I have no doubt he would have 
debited himself with a larger sum. To employ his 
own phrase — he was strictly correct in his accounts.” 

Mr. Desborne did not laugh ; on the contrary, he 
looked very grave, indeed. To his legal mind, the 
criminal nature of such an offence presented itself in a 
strong light. 

“ How did it all end ? ” he asked. 

The friends came forward and paid the amount. Tlie 
squire was appeased and the bank had no interest in 
the matter. I got my three pounds, and a note from 
my late clerk saying he was going to Australia, and 


B26 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


asking for a latter of introduction to a correspondent 
of mine in Melbourne.” 

“ And what did you do ? ” 

“Oh ! I sent him the letter, but I wrote privately to 
my friend telling the whole story and saying if he put 
neither silver nor gold in my late clerk’s way and de- 
barred him from the use of pen and ink, he might turn 
out a useful member of society. You see, one must 
give a fellow the chance of reforming. He may do 
well enough in a new country among strange people. 
Have another glass of wine do ” 

“ No, thank you,” said Mr. Desborne, rising. He 
felt he had had enough of everything in that room. A 
whole butt of Madeira would not have sufficed to drown 
the memory of Mr. Ti-anmere’s talk ! 

He took the most direct route back to Cloak Lane, 
and compelled himself to work for a couple of hours. 
Then he went out and had some luncheon, then re- 
turned to his office, saw a few clients, wrote half a 
dozen letters, drew out his cheque-book and looked 
at it, replaced it in the safe, went upstairs and talked for 
a little while with his uncle before going home. A day 
fully employed with the exception of that hour when 
he strolled through the wood of Queenhithe and tried 
unavailingly to find the waters of Lethe in Knightrider 
Street ; a day so fully employed that he never found 
time to go to his bankers, never thought of going to 
them, in fact. 

The second day of grace was passed much as the 
first had been, save that Mr. Desborne did not go wan- 
dering and confined his sole excursion to Chancery 
Lane where he had an appointment. 

At noon he took out his cheque-book and returned 
it again to the safe unused, as he had done on the 
previous afternoon. 

After bank hours he again brought it to light with 
great care, filled in a cheque, which, however, he did 
not tear from the book till the third day came, when 
about two o’clock he called Mr. Tripsdale into his 


THE HEAD OP THE FIRM. 


327 


office and despatched that young gentleman to get the 
draft cashed. 

“ Now,” said the Head of the Firm, when Mr. Trips- 
dale returned, take the number of these notes, put 
them in this envelope, and bring them back to me.” 

“What are you doing? ” asked Mr. Puckle, curious- 
ly, when he saw his fellow clerk’s employment. “ Oh ! 
for Humphrey Dayfeld, Esq., Limmer’s Hotel,” he 
added, laying down the envelope he had taken up. 

“Let my things alone, confound you,” said Mr. 
Tripsdale, indignantly. “There now, I will have to 
count those notes all again.” 

He counted them all again, Mr. Puckle kindly keep- 
ing tally with him and put them in their cover, which 
he took into Mr. Desborne’s office. 

“ Call me a cab, will you ? ” requested his employer, 
and Mr, Tripsdale, walking very erect as a sort of 
dignified protest at being asked to perform such an 
unworthy errand, went on his way and personally 
conducted a hansom to the door. If Mr. Puckle had 
been sent for a cab, he would have jumped in and let 
the man drive him back. Not so the younger clerk. 

“ I am not going to ride as if I were a messenger,” 
he soliloquized, and for this reason he stalked along 
solemnly to the amazement of “ cabby,” who decided 
the “little chap” was “a rum ’un.” 

It was on that same afternoon Mr. Tovey saw Mr. 
Desborne as he returned from taking up those bills. 

“ I thought he would have required help from me,” 
said the former to himself, when he found the accept- 
ance were honored. “It is a large sum for a man 
to find, more especially a man who must have been so 
hard up three months ago. I wonder how he managed 
to do it.” 

Mr. Desborne, as has already been remarked, could 
have told him, but Mr. Desborne did not. He did 
not tell any one, only stuck to business as he had never 
in all his life done before. Was it too late, he asked 
himself, to regain the fine connection formerly pos- 


328 


TEE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


sessed by his firm — to recover the splendid prestige 
which had once hung about its name? He could 
not tell, but he meant to try. 

Spite of the eternal struggle life had become, spite 
of the weary oppression which weighed him down, 
he would try. If sticking to business were indeed 
able to compass security, he must soon be out of debt, 
but who can fill a pitcher which leaks, unless he first 
stop the leak ? This was a problem Mr. Desborne had 
not yet set himself to solve. This w^as a conundrum 
still to be answered. 

“ Edward,” said his uncle one day about a month 
later, “ how could you be so careless as to give Mr. 
Dayfeld a check, and for such a large amount, pay- 
able to bearer, without ever crossing it ? ” 

“ That is all right,” was the answer, “ cash was 
wanted, and I drew the money out and paid it over 
myself.” 

“ And took a receipt, I hope ? ” 

“ Of course.” 

“ It is a way of doing business that I do not much 
like ; but still, why could he not have passed the check 
through his bank ? ” 

“ I really cannot tell you.” 

Ml’. Edward Desborne’s tone sounded as though 
he were a little vexed. 

Probably he felt he might as well not be Head of 
the Firm if his uncle wanted such an unreasonable 
amount of information. 


CHAPTER XXHL 


MRS. DESBORNe’s DESIRE. 

“I made you ‘sit up’ on Sunday, didn’t I, Miss 
Simpson ? ” 

It was Miss Wilton who asked this audacious ques- 
tion — Miss Wilton, who had almost caused Miss Simp- 
son’s hair to stand on end, and who, looking lovelier 
than ever, now lay back in an easy chair, her arms 
thrown up, and her hands supporting her head, look- 
ing the very incarnation of roguish impropriety. 

By virtue of her office as the guide and director of 
untrained youth. Miss Simpson would like to have told 
the young lady to sit up in a different sense, pull 
down her dress, and modestly hide her pretty feet, 
which were crossed and well in evidence, and, in- 
deed, were too small and well-formed for their owner 
to care to conceal very sedulously ; but Miss Wilton 
was not in Miss Simpson’s charge, and if she had been 
would most probably only have laughed at the man- 
date, and adopted an even more indolent attitude. 

“ Made me — ? ” repeated the poor lady, helplessly. 
She felt sure if any one needed to receive a hint about 
holding herself erect, that person was Miss Wilton. 

“I mean I amazed you a little.” 

“ More than a little, my dear, it grieved me deeply 
to hear you talking as you did.” 

“Why?” 

“ Well, for one reason, because I have hitherto been 
accustomed to hear young ladies converse in English.” 

“ I did converse in English, modern English, which 
bears the same relation to that of your time as the 


330 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


English of fifty years ago did to the pathos, say, of 
Chaucer.” 

“My dear — my dear ” 

“ What is the matter now? Do you mean to say 
I am not to use the language of my period, of my en- 
vironment ? Absurd ! ” 

“Is the language of your period unintelligible 
slang ? ” 

“ Not unintelhgible and not slang, Miss Simpson. 
Slang is defined by the united wisdom of nine, if not 
more, eminent lexicographers boiled down by one P. 
A. Nuttall, LL.D., to be something vulgar and unmean- 
ing. Now, that can’t be vulgar which is in use among 
the highest in the land, and that the new language is 
not unmeaning is proved by the fact of every one un- 
derstanding it.” 

“ I fail to do so.” 

“Then you are the exception which proves the rule. 
Besides, it is only for want of proper instruction that 
you remain ignorant. When I have been teaching 
you for a few months longer the strange language will 
be plain to you as a first primer. No doubt you bog- 
gled a little over ABC when you were a child.” 

Miss Simpson was forced to relax. “You are a 
naughty girl ! ” she said, “and I ought to give you a 
good scolding.” 

“ We will take that as read,” answered Miss Wilton. 

“ Seriously, I felt quite ashamed to think you should 
talk as you did before all those gentlemen, just when I 
wanted you to be on your best behavior, too.” 

“They liked it.” 

“ Oh ! no, they did not.” 

“ Then their looks belied their thoughts.” 

“No man likes an unfeminine woman.” 

“You dear old thing ! I am not unfeminine ; I am 
only modern. I am of my time, up to date, in fact.” 

“Of course, I know nothing,” said Miss Simpson, in 
an offended tone — the smallest reference to age hurt 
her even more than slang. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


331 


“Candidly, I don’t think you know much of the 
present time. Things have gone on a little since your 
bread-and-butter days. Girls are not now expected to 
sit mute and listen to their elders talking nonsense.” 

“ At all events, they do not,” interrupted Miss Simp- 
son. “ Ah ! the manners of young people were very 
different once.” 

“ They were as I tell you ; we have gone on ; things 
are so much better managed all round than they were 
formerly ; everything is easier, nicer, less formal. Only 
consider how society has veered round in its opinions, 
and it will go on veering. Not so long ago there was 
an idea no woman could venture out in public unless 
escorted by a man. Before many years are over, I ex- 
pect it won’t be considered proper for a man to go 
abroad without a woman to take care of him ! ” 

“ You may talk as you like, but gentlemen do not like 
that sort of thing.” 

“ What sort of thing ? and when that is all settled, 
how do you know ? Has any gentleman told you what 
he likes ?” 

“ I know what Mr. Thomas Desborne likes? ” 

“ Do tell me ; I should love to hear the opinions of 
an antediluvian.” 

“I must decline to continue the conversation fur- 
ther,” said Miss Simpson, rising and preparing to leave 
the room. “ I honor and respect Mr.' Thomas Des- 
borne more than lean say, and it is impossible. for me 
to remain where he is spoken of in such terms.” 

“ Such terms ! ” cried Miss Wilton, starting up and 
barring Miss Simpson’s progress to the door ; “ why, 
antediluvian is the modern synonym for everything 
that is most charming and attractive in the human be- 
ing. Do not go away, please ; I would rather be hung, 
drawn, and quartered than say one depreciating word 
about Mr. Thomas Desborne, who is quite a darling. 
Indeed I love him more than his nephew, and ever so 
much better than Aileen’s prime favorite, Mr. Vern- 
ham, who looked glum enough to throw a gloom over 


332 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


any festival. If it had not been for him we should have 
spent a high old time on Sunday night.” 

“Don’t speak against Mr. Vernham,” entreated 
Aileen. “He has been the kindest friend I ever had, 
or ever shall have.” 

“ Dear me ! who am I to talk against, then ? ” asked 
Miss Wilton. “As some one said, I seem quite unable 
to open my mouth without putting my foot in it.” 

“ Suppose you do not talk against any one,” sug- 
gested Miss Simpson. “It is a bad habit, to say the 
least ; how should you like if we began to criticize your 
friends and pull them to pieces ? ” 

“ My dear Miss Simpson,” returned the girl wdth ef- 
fusion, “ you may begin and pull every friend I have 
in the world to pieces at once. I give you free and full 
permission. I shall enjoy the fun ! Do not look so 
shocked. I am not going to talk treason about any 
one in your good books for the future, though I con- 
fess on Sunday I did think I should like to see Aileen’s 
solemn Mr. Vernham come a downer.” 

“What is a downer? ” asked Miss Simpson, aghast. 

“A cropper, if you prefer that reading. Now, let us 
kiss all around the maypole and make up friends, and 
on the occasion of the next Sunday visitation you shall 
see how proper and straight-laced and niminy-piminy 
I can be.” 

“Oh, my dear,” said Miss Simpson, as she kissed the 
sweet lips presented to her, “you must not be vexed 
with me. It is for your own good I speak. You are 
so pretty and so charming, and ” 

“Don’t make me blush,” entreated Miss Wilton. 
“ Come, Aileen, it’s your turn. Hillo ! who have we 
here ? ” 

“ Where ? ” asked Miss Simpson. 

“I see a carriage coming along the drive — only a 
fly, I vow and protest, isn’t that the correct style, sort 
of little oath our poor great-grandmothers indulged in. 
Tompkins’ fly from the station with Tompkins himself 
as charioteer.” 


THE HEAD OP THE FIRM. 333 

“ Who can it be ? ” exclaimed Miss Simpson all in a 
flurry. 

“ Don’t be alarmed, my dear lady, I will stay and 
see you through it. Sit down and let me fan you.” 

“ Be quiet, you ridiculous child,” said Miss Simpson, 
putting aside the newspaper with which the girl would 
have fanned her. “ How long Susan is in answering 
the bell. Oh ! she is opening the door now — why — it 
is — it is Mrs. Desborne.” 

It was Mrs. Desborne who came into the room, 
shook hands with Miss Simpson, and bowed to Miss 
Wilton and Aileen, even before the Major’s daughter 
was introduced to her. 

“I am so glad to find you in,” she said to Miss 
Simpson without any further remark, “ as I wish to 
return by the next train.” 

“May I not order some luncheon?” asked Miss 
Simpson. 

“ Nothing, thank you ; I only want a few minutes’ 
conversation.” 

The two girls understood this to mean she wanted a 
few minutes’ conversation in private. They slipped 
quietly out of the room and made their way down to 
the river. 

“ I will tell you why I am here at once,” began Mrs. 
Desborne, when she and Miss Simpson were left alone, 
sinking into the chair Miss Wilton had lately occu- 
pied. “The Survilles return from their honeymoon 
next Monday, and will be staying with us for nearly a 
week. It is impossible for me to play the hostess and 
act as housekeeper as well, and I want you to help me.” 

“ In what way ? ” asked the other. 

“ Why, you stupid creature, there is only one way 
in which you can help — by coming up and seeing to 
the things for me. Will you do this ? ” 

Miss Simpson paused ; she knew perfectly well what 
she wanted to say, but she did not know exactly how 
to say it, for which reason, putting off the evil hour of 
full explanation, she answered : 


334 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ I scarcely see how I ” 

“Now, for mercy’s sake, don’t begin to make ob- 
jections. I have quite troubles enough at present 
without your adding to them.” 

“ I should be very soiTy indeed to do so,” answered 
Miss Simpson, who knew from former experience that 
Mrs. Desborne’s mountains were all molehills ; “ but 
what I must say is that I am at present Miss Fermoy’s 
companion. I do not see how I can leave her.” 

“ Not even for a few days ? ” 

“ Not even for a few days.” 

Mrs. Desborne bit her lip. She was not accustomed 
to be thwarted, and Miss Simpson’s reply seemed to 
her little short of rebellion, not to say treason. 

“You must remember,” she said, “ that but for me 
you never would have secured your present situation.” 

“ I am not unmindful of your kindness. I never 
have been,” answered Miss Simpson, ambiguously. 

“ Do you know what the girl’s parents were ? ” 

“ You were good enough to inform me in your first 
note.” 

“ And do you mean to tell me a girl of her class 
may not be left to take care of herself for the short 
time I wish you to come to town ? ” 

“I mean to say that so long as Miss Fermoy 
chooses to retain my services, I shall treat her in every 
respect as I would were she the daughter of a peer.” 

For a few moments there ensued silence, during 
which Mrs. Desborne digested Miss Simpson’s speech. 
It was not a nice speech, she thought. It was one 
that conveyed much more than the actual words 
spoken might seem to imply. 

Mrs. Desborne knew Miss Simpson quite as well as 
Miss Simpson knew Mrs. Desborne. Many a battle 
they had fought in the old days departed, and the 
Governess always came out the winner. She won 
now. 

“It is very annoying,” said Mrs. Desborne ; but “if 
you will not come without the tiresome girl she must 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


335 


come with you, I suppose. Does that concession seem 
satisfactory ? ” 

“ On those terms I am quite willing to do what you 
ask.” 

“If she consent to the arrangement, I suppose ? ” 
suggested Mrs. Desborne, with a sneer. 

“ She will consent,” replied Miss Simpson, calmly ; 
“there never existed any one more ready to oblige.” 

“ Remember, you just keep her out of my way,” 
said Mrs. Desborne in a smoldering rage. 

“ Allow me to make all arrangements, and you shall 
not even see her.” 

“ Well, that is a comfort at all events,” was the re- 
joinder. “ I certainly do not wish to introduce Mr. 
Desborne’s distinguished client to my cousin and Cap- 
tain Surville.” 

“ You need have no apprehension on that score. 
When do you wish me to come ? ” 

“ On Saturday, if you will. Everything is a little 
uncomfortable in the house, and every one is more than 
a little out of temper. I have never known Mr. Des- 
borne so tiresome since I married him. He is con- 
stantly saying the expenses are too heavy, which is 
quite ridiculous, you know, because the expenses are 
no heavier than they always were.” 

“ It is simply absurd,” went on Mrs. Desborne, find- 
ing Miss Simpson preserved a discreet silence, “ a 
house cannot be kept up for nothing.” 

“That is self-evident,” said IVIiss Simpson, “and 
neither can two. ” 

“I never wanted a second house,” declared Mrs. 
Desborne, warmly. “ I am perfectly satisfied to take a 
furnished place every summer. It was certainly Mr. 
Desborne’s wish to buy Ashwater. When he was 
grumbling about some bills the other day, and de- 
claring he could not afford this and that, I asked him 
to sell this place or let it, and what do you suppose he 
said?” 

“ Something sensible, no doubt.” 


336 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ Something idiotic, you mean. He said he would 
like to sell the house in town and make our permanent 
home here. Now, just fancy making a permanent 
home at Teddington. ‘Never,’ I told him. He may 
live where he pleases, but he will never get me to 
make a home out of London. I should be very glad 
if he would sell that stupid little house, however, and 
buy one in some accessible part of London. If he 
names the matter to you, do suggest that to him.” 

“ I make it a rule never to take sides whether with 
husband or wife,” answered Miss Simpson. 

“ You make it a rule, apparently, to do nothing you 
are asked,” retorted Mrs. Desborne. 

“ You know it is useless trying to quarrel with me,” 
observed Miss Simpson. 

“ I have no desire' to quarrel with you. I only want 
you to see things as they are. Is it reasonable, I ask, 
for Mr. Desborne to say our petty household costs too 
much.” 

“ That depends, I should say.” 

“ Depends on what ? ” 

“ How much it does cost ? ” 

“ Good gracious, you know how simply we live. . As 
for me, I spend nothing — literally nothing. It is not 
my fault that the bills run up. You know what trades- 
men are, and what servants are. As I said the other 
evening, ‘If you felt so dissatisfied, you had better 
manage the house yourself.’ When I married a busi- 
ness man, I thought at least I was marrying one who 
would give me plenty of money, but I have never had 
a carriage or men servants or any luxury whatever. 
And it is so absurd because Mr. Desborne must be 
making a huge income, and we know at his uncle’s 
death he will come into a large fortune.” 

“ Mr. Thomas Desborne is still comparatively a 
young man.” 

He is sixty-six, and he has been saving for nearly 
forty years,” was the reply. “ If there were no money 
I should not say a word, though I should feel I had 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


337 


been very badly treated, grossly deceived in fact, but 
when such a fuss is made about nothing I confess it 
tries me. Will you come up stairs ? I want some 
things sent to town and can show you what they are. 
Oh ! and Woodward must manage to let me have 
quantities of flowers, not the wretched supplies he 
seems to imagine sufficient. Mr. Desborne says florist’s 
charges are enormous. Speak about this, will you ? 
and see that a large hamper is despatched on Friday.” 

From all of which remarks and commands, Miss 
Simpson gathered that Mrs. Desborne had inherited 
the Harlingford talent for spending money and getting 
nothing in return. 

Matters must have gone very far, she knew, when 
Mr. Desborne was moved to speech, and indeed though 
he had said nothing stronger than Don't you think, 
my love, two guineas is too much to charge for a bou- 
quet ? ” and “ It seems to me, Emily, the tradespeople 
cannot possibly be correct in their accounts,” such 
mild remonstrances had cost him more to utter than it 
would another man to have carried a fiery cross from 
cellar to attic, and struck wild terror into the hearts of 
domestics and mistress. 

The trouble had begun the poor lady felt ; when 
would it end ? She who had known poverty herself, who 
had suffered many things at the hands of the Harling- 
fords, who comprehended them root and branch, who 
had received nothing but kindness from the Des- 
bornes, who had reason to be grateful to them, and 
who was grateful, could not contemplate the situation 
without a secret dread, none the less strong because 
undefined. 

“ And to think of her talking in that cold-blooded 
way about dear Mr. Thomas Desborne. She would not 
care if everyone in the world were dead, so long as she 
could get what she wanted herself ! ” 

This was Miss Simpson’s view of Mrs. Desborne, 
while Aileen’s was of reverent admiration. To her 
Mrs. Desborne seemed the embodiment of everything 


338 


THE HEAD OP THE FIRM. 


most perfect in what she mentally called “ a lady 
born.” Mr. Desborne himself did not think more 
highly of his wife than this girl, who considered there 
had never before been anyone like her — so beautiful, 
so graceful, so regal ; the very sound of her voice was 
delightful to Aileen, and the rustle of her rich dress 
sweet as some pleasant melody. It did not signify 
that Miss Simpson told her they would have to keep 
out of the way, that they would see little of Mrs. Des- 
borne, that while visitors were in the house it would 
be necessary for them to be still as mice. Aileen was 
quite content, more than content, indeed. To be 
under the same roof with Mrs. Desborne, to be able to 
oblige that lady even by effacing herself appeared to 
the foolish creature delightful experiences. 

“It seems too good to be true,” she said to Miss 
Simpson. In reply to which remark Miss Simpson 
smiled, though sadly. 

“ I will make it as pleasant for you as I can,” she 
answered, not without a twinge of conscience, “ but if 
I fail to render your stay agreeable, you must try to 
bear the disappointment. We shall not remain for any 
length of time.” 

But Aileen was not disappointed. Though she 
never sat down to table with Mrs. Desborne, or was 
asked to spend an evening in her company, or went 
out to drive or walk with her, she enjoyed her stay 
most thoroughly. 

One day, without any intention of breaking through 
the quarantine imposed, she came face to face with Mrs. 
Surville, who inclined her head courteously and made 
some trifling remark, and remembered the meeting 
afterward. 

“ Who is that pretty girl you have here, Emily ? ” 
she asked Mrs. Desborne. 

“ Do you mean my maid ? ” 

“ No, oh, no ! A girl with large eyes and rich brown 
hair and lovely complexion ; not quite a lady perhaps, 
though she may be one^’* 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


339 


“ Oh ! I know who you mean, she is a person my 
husband takes an interest in. She is here with Miss 
Simpson, who is trying to teach her English and not 
succeeding very well.” 

“She has a sweet face and soft, pleasant voice,” said 
Mrs. Surville, puzzled. 

Mrs. Desborne laughed a little bitterly as she re- 
plied, “ And what will stand her in much better stead, 
a large fortune.” 

“No, really ? ” 

“ Really, she is quite a common person, but some 
relative left her a quantity of money. I call it a scan- 
dal — what can a girl in her rank do with money ? ” 

“That is a question I cannot answer. I suppose, 
however, a woman in any rank can spend mone}". How 
much has she ? ” 

“ I really forget Half a million or something of 
that sort.” 

“Half a million ! Good heavens! And are you go- 
ing to let that amount slip out of the family ? ” 

“ How do you mean ? ” 

“ Have you no impecunious relatives? Are there no 
gilded youths among us who are short of money and 
would marry Hecate herself if she came with a good 
dowry in her hand ? ” 

“ I am no matchmaker,” said Mrs. Desborne, coldly, 
“ and if I were, I should not consider Miss Fermoy a 
desirable connection.” 

“Fermoy is a good name. We will at once set 
about finding an ancestry for her and a husband.” 

“Pray do not be ridiculous,” expostulated her 
cousin. 

Mrs. Surville did not make herself ridiculous, but 
she followed Miss Simpson to her innermost fastnesses, 
and made acquaintance with the heiress, greatly to 
Aileen’s surprise. She was continually inventing ex- 
cuses to wander into the library where governess and 
pupil were often to be found. She would sit with 
them and chat for half an hour at a time. One fore- 


340 


THE HEAD OP THE FIEM. 


noon, when Miss Simpson was busy, she went with 
Aileen into Kegent’s Park, and on* another occasion 
made the girl accompany her when she wanted to go 
shopping. 

“ You are mad, Emily, not to cultivate MissFermoy, 
who simply believes you to be perfect,” she said to her 
cousin. 

“ The more one keeps those sort of persons at a dis- 
tance, the more they respect you,” was the reply. 

Mrs. Surville said nothing, but she thought that the 
farther off Mrs. Desborne kept every one the more 
highly she would be respected and esteemed. 

“ And I find I was mistaken,” proceeded that lady ; 
“ she has not half or even a quarter of a million.” 

“ Still, I dare say she has enough to prove useful to 
a younger son. If I were not going to India I would 
take the matter in hand and arrange a marriage be- 
tween her and Geoff Harlingford. You might manage 
that easily, Emily, but then you never did try to bene- 
fit your family.” 

Perhaps it was the contrast between her own 
fortuneless condition, because, as she always said, 
what is the interest on ten thousand pounds, that 
caused Mrs. Desborne to feel so bitterly her inability 
to buy a certain necklace on which she had set her af- 
fections. 

“ Mrs. Surville laughed over this disappointment, 
and talked to Miss Simpson about it in Aileen’s pres- 
ence. 

“ Emily has plenty of jewelry,” she said ; “ but she 
wants to be gorgeous when she goes to the Kilroys. 
You know I worried the Countess till I got her to send 
cards to Mr. and Mrs. Desborne. He, sensible man, 
won’t go, so Emily will come with us, and I know her 
great desire is to outshine me ! She thought her dot- 
ing husband would give the necklace to her, but he 
says he can’t afford the price, and she is consequently 
heartbroken. De Grancey is selling necklace, brace- 
let, and ear-rings, and a star for old Lady Lowden, 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


341 


whose son is ruining her, and won’t part with them 
except for ready money. ” 

All this and much more Aileen heard, and said noth- 
ing ; but on the very last day of their visit, while Miss 
Simpson was out, she put a cheque in her purse and 
drove down to De Grancey’s. When she returned she 
had a parcel which she directed to Mrs. Desborne, and 
asked the maid to leave it on her mistress’s dressing- 
table, together with a note. 

Captain and Mrs. Surville had gone to other relatives 
by this time, and Mrs Desborne consequently felt out 
of sorts when she went uptairs after luncheon to look 
at a dress her milliner had sent home — a dress so per- 
fect it might have been styled a triumph of art, and 
which was destined to eclipse Mrs. Surville at the Kil- 
roy ball immediately after Easter. 

“ Now if I had only that Lowden set,” she thought ; 
“but I shall have to wear the old ornaments that 
would spoil any gown.” 

It was veiy sad, and Mrs. Desborne sighed as she 
turned to her dressing-table. 

“What is this parcel, Mortimer?” she asked her 
maid, laying aside the note, which looked ominously 
like a bill. 

“ It is one Miss Fermoy asked me to bring up, my 
lady,” answered Mortimer ere she left the room. 

Mrs. Desborne carelessly unfastened the parcel, 
imagining Miss Simpson had brought it in ; but when 
she opened the cases and read Aileen’s humble little 
note, her hard heart was touched for once. 

“ The poor, poor girl. How sweet of her ! ” she mur- 
mured, and straightway she repaired to the library, 
where Aileen was trembling lest her present should be 
returned. 

She need not have been uneasy on that score. 

“You dear child ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Desborne. “ I 
have no words to thank you ! ” and straightway she 
thanked her with what Timothy Fermoy’s daughter 
thought the sweetest song without words possible— a 


342 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


kiss. “ You have given me the very thing I most de- 
sired, but it is too much. You must not waste your 
money in this way.” 

“ Oh ! ma’am, what can I do ? What can I even do to 
show my thankfulness to you. If my little present were 
ten times the worth it is, it would not tell you half of 
what I feel ; ” and Aileen, covering her face with her 
hands began to weep such happy tears as she had never 
shed in all her life before. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


TOM CONNOLLAN’s LETTER. 

Had Aileen been absent from Ashwater for ten years 
instead of ten days, Miss Wilton could not have evinced 
greater pleasure at seeing her once more. 

‘‘The place has seemed so lonely since you went 
away,” she said, by a look including Miss Simpson in 
the “you,” and Miss Simpson graciously replied for self 
and pupil that, although they had enjoyed their little 
visit immensely, yet she was glad to find herself again 
at Ashwater. 

“This peaceful life,” she added, “unfits one for the 
whirl of society,” as though, dear, simple lady, she had 
been treading the round of dissipation, sitting up o* 
nights and gadding about all day ! 

“ And how did the ‘giddy whirl ’ affect you? ” asked 
Miss Wilton, addressing Aileen. 

“ I was not whirling,” was the answer. 

“ Out of it, eh ? ” 

“ Quite ; still I had a very pleasant time.” 

“ You got my note ? ” 

“And answered it ; did you not receive my reply?” 

“ Yes, oh yes ! but you failed to write to Mr. Vern- 
ham.” 

“ To Mr. Vernham ? I had nothing to write about.” 

“ I thought you might have done so. He seemed to 
want to see you.” 

“Probably he may come down next Sunday,” ob- 
served Miss Simpson, with a little simper. She was 
thinking of one who would doubtless accompany Mr. 
Vernham — the most perfect gentleman, the most inter- 


344 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


esting companion, the kindest friend ever bound in 
orthodox black, and published in human duodecimo as 
a lawyer. 

He was down last Sunday, also,” said Miss Wilton, 
referring to Mr. Vernham. 

“ What, again ! ” exclaimed Aileen. 

“Yes, indeed,” was the answer ; “ he must want to 
see you very much. The Dad met him loafing around 
— I beg your pardon — retracing his steps to Kingston 
via Hampton Wick, and asked him in to partake of our 
frugal fare. My excellent parent has taken quite a 
fancy to your friend.” 

“Did Mr. Thomas Desborne accompany him?” asked 
Miss Simpson, eagerly. “ But no, he could not,” she 
added, checking her 3^outhful impetuosity, “for he 
knew we were in London.” 

“That was why I said I thought Aileen might have 
written to Mr. Vernham, in order to save him a useless 
journey,” rejoined Miss Wilton. 

“ You had better send him a line now to tell him we 
are really back,” remarked Miss Simpson. 

“ Yes, and I will post it,” capped Miss Wilton. 

“ There is no necessity,” said Aileen, flushing a little ; 
“ we shall probably hear from him.” 

“ Well, you are a funny girl — one by yourself,” ob- 
served Miss Wilton, as she rose to depart, and then she 
kissed her friend very tenderly, and went out into the 
fine March weather, to get a “ cold or a color, perhaps 
both,” leaving Aileen with a little feeling of chill creep- 
ing about her heart, which she had not felt before and 
did not understand. 

“What could Mr. Vernham want?” she asked her- 
self, “why did he wish to see her so particularly? why 
did he not write if he had anything special to sa^^ ? He 
had always written before, what kept him from writing 
now? what had gone wrong ? ” 

“ I really think, my dear, you ought to send a note to 
Mr. Vernham or Thomas Desborne,” urged Miss Simp- 
son once more, but Aileen again said it was not neces- 


TEE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


3i5 


sary and consequently Miss Simpson, nothing loth her- 
self, indited a pretty little epistle to Mr. Thomas Des- 
borne, mentioning that Mr. Vernham had twice come to 
Ashwater, and unfortunately found no one at home. 

“Would it be well for me to write and invite him? ” 
she asked, artlessly ; “ or will you ask him to accompany 
you on the occasion of your next visit, to which we are 
looking forward, as we always do, with pleasant antici- 
pation ? ” 

“To this effusion Mr. Thomas Desborne replied by 
return of post that perhaps it “ would be better not to 
write to Mr. Vernham, but let matters take their course, 
I am very glad to hear what you say, and will go down 
to Teddington as soon as possible, and talk over this 
new departure with you.” 

“ How like a man ! ” thought Miss Simpson. “ He 
does not say when he is coming, still it will be ‘ soon as 
possible.’ Very likely on Sunday.” 

Perhaps it was because Mr. Thomas Desborne was a 
man instead of a woman that he did not consider it 
necessary to tell Miss Simpson he meant to spend the 
Sunday, during the afternoon of which she so fondly 
hoped to enjoy his “ intellectual conversation,” with an 
old friend who lived at Dulwich. This was the case, 
however, and consequently it came about that when 
Sunday afternoon arrived and Mr. Vernham was ushered 
in alone, her disappointment proved very keen, and not 
even the wild thought which flashed through her senti- 
mental mind, that Mr. Vernham was beginning to see 
something in Aileen he had not previously seen — some- 
thing due entirely to the excellent influences which now 
surrounded that young person — could console her for 
the absence of a man who alone realized the ideal of 
perfection she had conceived. 

“Are you afraid of coming out?” Philip asked 
Aileen, after they had been talking for some time about 
things which were to them indifferent. 

“Not at all, ” she answered, without referring the 
question to Miss Simpson, who reflected, “ She has still 


346 


THE HEAD OF THE FIEM. 


mucli to learn, ” and watched them pass through the 
French windows and stroll away toward the river with 
that profound interest most women feel in following 
the movements of a pair of lovers, or even a pair who 
may become lovers. 

“It would be an admirable arrangement, ” she decid- 
ed, and yet she knew no more really about Philip than 
she did about the Emperor of Kussia, or any other indi- 
vidual quite outside the pale of her acquaintance, but 

tis ever thus,” or at least it is almost ever thus. 
The female heart is so fearfully and wonderfully sym- 
pathetic. 

They sauntered down to the water. In the valley of 
the Thames eveiyone does the same thing ; there is 
a charm in watching the currents, in following the 
course of the stream, unintelligible save to the initi- 
ated. 

A long summer’s day may be spent quite easily lean- 
ing over a bridge or lying idly under a tree looking at 
the river. No less troublesome way of killing time can 
be imagined. Whether it is very profitable is quite 
another question, and one in which, or in the former 
fact, neither the young man nor the young woman, pac- 
ing slowly beneath trees beginning shiveringly to put 
out tender buds, felt much interest. 

“Are you certain you are sufficiently wrapped up? ” 
asked^ Philip Vernham, as a cold blast swept across the 
lawn. 

Aileeu looked at her companion in some surprise. 
She had never walked with him before, save on that 
evening when they hurried to Bartholomew Square, 
talking as they went, and she never thought, she could 
not know, anything about that tender anxiety most 
men, more especially men who have loved and rever- 
enced mother or sister or wife, feel lest the wind should 
blow too roughly on a woman’s cheek. 

Messrs. Desborne indeed were full of such solicitude, 
but that was a different matter. In the first place 
Aileen considered uncle and nephew exceptions to all 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


347 


rules ; in the next, they were not young as Philip Vern- 
ham ; besides, she had not all her life long looked up to 
them as immeasurably superior to everything and every- 
one else, as she was trained to regard Mrs. Vernham’s 
son. 

Therefore, when he asked that question about her 
shawl in a tone such as she had never heard before, 
she could not help pausing an instant before answer- 
ing. 

“ Quite sure, Mr. Philip, I rarely wrap myself up at 
all/’ 

He looked at her with a smile which seemed given 
to something or someone far away, perhaps to the 
Aileen who had been and was not, who could never be 
again. 

However that might be, it was the old Aileen, the 
Aileen he would always remember as she stood among 
piles of baskets on a Whit Monday not a year agone, with 
a pretty blush flushing her face, with the glancing 
sunbeams playing at hide and seek among her hair, 
with her large lovely eyes fixed on him while he searched 
for the advertisement which began “If Timothy Fer- 

moy ,” he seemed for a moment to see as they 

walked together down to the river. 

“ I wanted to speak to you alone,” he said ; “ that was 
why I asked you to come out, for I suppose, kind as 
Miss Simpson seems, you do not talk to her about 
Mrs. Fermoy.” 

“ No. I talk to no person except you about Mrs. 
Fermoy. Are things going wrong at Battersea — I 
mean, are they worse then usual ? ” 

“ There is nothing exactly wrong, but matters seem 
a little unsettled, and I thought I would rather come 
down than write.” 

“It is very kind of you,” said Aileen, gratefull3^ 

“ Perhaps I am selfish rather than kind,” he answered 
with a strange embarrassment. 

Perfectly honest people find even a whole truth, if it 
be half a deception, so difficult that they must needs 


348 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


try to explain their utterance is not quite straightfor- 
ward. 

Such explanation, though it never makes the utter- 
ance straightforward, acts as a salve to their wounded 
conscience, and this was how Philip Vernham tried to 
heal his conscience. 

Aileen could not understand him at all. He seemed 
so strange, and yet the thought struck her, might it 
not be she who was changed ? 

What had come between them? Why did he not 
talk ? Why could she not answer as she was wont to 
do formerly ? Why did she find it such an effort to say : 

“You never could be selfish, Mr. Philip.” 

He made no immediate reply — indeed, made no reply 
at all, only walked on a few steps and then remarked : 

“ So far, I think Augustus Tripsdale has managed 
matters capitally for you, better even than his brother 
could have done.” 

“Indeed, I am sure of that,” returned Aileen, in cor- 
dial assent. “I have often wished to show him how 
much obliged I am, but they are both proud, and it is 
hard to know how to offer anything without giving 
offence.” 

“You need not trouble yourself on that score,” re- 
plied her companion. “The clever young fellow ad- 
mires you so enthusiastically that the mere pleasure of 
serving you proves more than a sufficient reward.” 

Aileen did not know what to answer. She would have 
liked to say many things, but this new manner of Mr. 
Vernham’s, his way of speaking to her as he might to 
his equal, disconcerted her immensely, and she held 
her peace. 

“ What a pretty place this is,” said Philip, stopping 
for a moment and looking back at the house. 

“ Yes, lovely,” agreed the girl ; “ in summer it must 
be like fairyland.” 

“Enchanted country though it be, I must not forget 
what I came — that is, what I wanted, to tell you,” said 
Mr. Vernham. “ Some time since Mrs. Fermoy, by an 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


349 


unlucky accident, heard you had come into a great for- 
tune ” 

“ How could she hear that? Did Mr. Tripsdale ” 

. “ No,” interrupted the other, “ the information did 
not come from either of the Tripsdales, but from a per- 
son called, if I remember rightly, Jackies.” 

“But Mrs. Jackies is dead,” objected Aileen. 

“ You went to see her when she was ill, I believe, and 
said you had received a legacy ” 

“ Yes, I did. I remember ” 

“You see how things come about. She told the 
woman who was nursing her, the woman told some 
gossips in the presence of her daughter, the daughter 
told Mr. Plashet in the presence of Mrs. Fermoy ! All 
this Mr. Stenbridge heard from your old friend Jack, 
and Mrs. Stenbridge repeated the whole story to Au- 
gustus Tripsdale.” 

“ So that it was all my own fault.” 

“If you like to say fault— yes. At any rate, Mrs. 
Fermoy got to know of your good fortune and worried 
young Tripsdale greatly in consequence. She wrote 
in a threatening way to him ; she went to his employ- 
er’s place of business to search out his real abode. 
The employer declared he would give her in charge, 
and sent for a policeman, and altogether there was 
much unpleasantness before she could be persuaded 
to go home. Then Augustus Tripsdale wrote her a 
very stiff letter, dated from his friends’ house near 
Chertsey, saying if she persisted in giving so much 
trouble her allowance should be discontinued. Indeed, 
I imagine he did keep it back for a few days. At all 
events she at last was induced to keep quiet, but when 
she retired from the battle her sons began to show 
fight. They almost besieged Mr. Grafton’s offices. Mi-. 
Grafton is the wood engraver for whom Augustus 
Tripsdale works. They went there when tipsy and 
created a disturbance ; they sat on the stairs, and, in 
fact, did everything possible to provoke a quarrel, but 
the matter was again arranged and another letter was 


350 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


written to them, begging that they would put their 
request, whatever it might be, into writing. 

“ Here it is ; I thought you had better see for your- 
self how the matter stood.” 

Aileen took the sheet of ruled paper, which bore 
stamped on it plainly the sign and seal of a beer- 
stained pint pot. 

It was from Tom Connollan as head of that clan, 
and set forth that having met a nice, steady young 
woman who was willing to marry him, he made so bold 
as to ask Aileen, who, he was given to understand, was 
not within a pound or two, not to say fifty, if she would 
help him to make a home for his two motherless chil- 
dren as well as his brothers, with the exception of 
Jack, who was provided for. 

He wanted what, though Aileen, no doubt, would 
never miss, she might depend on making a man of 
him, one hundred pounds, to open a tripe shop in the 
old shed. 

“There’s a lot of money to be made out of tripe,” 
he went on, “and I’m the man as could make it. If 
you’ll do this I’ll keep Peter and Dick hard at work, 
and try to prevent the old woman bothering you. Mr. 
Parkyns has gone, paid his shot, and given up his 
rooms, so we’ll all stop together and live as comfortably 
as we can. Hoping you’ll see your way to send me 
what I need to start on and make a big fortune out of 
and to save any more trouble, I remain your loving 
brother till death do us part, 

“Thomas Connollan.” 

With a shrinking disgust Aileen read this plainly 
expressed, ill-spelt, badly written epistle through. The 
dirty beer-stained paper, smelling horribly of bad to- 
bacco, seemed to bring the whole of her past once 
more before the girl’s eyes, and show as if in some 
cruelly realistic panorama the scenes she had witnessed, 
the misery she had endured. 

Was she never to be rid of these people ? was her 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


351 


poor father’s mistake to be visited through long years 
upon his child ? was she ceaselessly to be afflicted b}' a 
woman who was no blood relation ? by men who were 
no kin of hers, who would always be disreputable, a 
shame to be connected with, whatever their rank ; who 
were utterly destitute of that true self-respect and 
honest pride the possession of which often makes a 
laborer a gentleman, and the lack of which transforms 
a peer into a clod. 

“ He is not my brother,” she indignantly exclaimed, 
and would have torn the letter across, had not Mr. 
Vernham laid his hand on hers. 

“Do not do that,” he said, gentlv. “May I read 
it ? ” 

“ Yes,” Aileen answered, the flush of anger fading 
from her cheek as she gave Mr. Vernham Thomas 
Connollan’s letter. 

Then as he read, leaning against that old ash- tree, 
the branches of which dipped into the water, she 
looked wearily at the scene before her. 

Ceaselessly the river flowed by, whimsically the lit- 
tle currents and eddies swirled in to the bank ami 
broke against it with tiny frets and plashes that made 
a strange music of their own. 

It was like life ! deep sorrow flowing steadily, silent- 
ly through some sorely tried human heart, while the 
small worries of daily existence, the petty cares of 
consequence one hour and forgotten the next, kept 
up a ceaseless lament, uttered by those who had no 
real griefs. 

Insignificant troubles make a noise in the world, but 
great affliction holds on its course with quiet iiisist- 
ance, broadening a man’s nature as rivers in a desert 
fertilize the land, rendering what otherwise had been 
but arid sand, a fruitful plain. 

“ What shall you do ? ” asked Philip, folding up Mr. 
Connollan’s epistle. 

“ Send the money,” replied the girl. “ I would do 
a deal more than that if it were likely to be of real use. 


352 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“I am so sorry for yon, Aileen,” said the young man. 

“Yes, I sometimes feel the whole thing is a little 
hard,” she answered ; “ but perhaps after all it is I who 
was wrong.” 

“ In what way ? ” 

“ In thinking I could ever leave them behind ; in 
fancying I might fit myself for another sort of life from 
that I was born in.” 

“ What would your father and mother say, Aileen, 
if they could speak to you now ? ” 

“ I don’t know, Mr. Philip. Perhaps that it would 
have been best to rest content in that slate of life in 
which God placed me. I often think I might have 
been happier if I had stayed as I was, but I can’t go 
back now.” 

“I hoped you were happy.” 

“I am and I am not,” she answered, “but then I 
talk foolishly — who is happy? don’t iliind me, please. 
It vexes me that you should hear me say such things. 
I ought to have more sense.” 

They spoke but little as they went back to the 
house, where Miss Simpson was conversing in her best 
manner to Major Wilton and his daughter. 

“I am going to Richmond,” explained the former, 
“ and Carrie said she would walk with me as far as Ash- 
water, on the chance that you would take her in for 
half an hour.” 

“ Delighted, of course,” said Miss Simpson, think- 
ing, however, it was possible to have too much of a 
good thing, and that wdiether good or bad, the Wil- 
tons on Sunday, when Mr. Thomas Desborne might 
come in any moment, were quite too much. 

“ Where is Aileen ? ” asked the young lady. 

“ She has gone with Mr. Vernham for a turn round 
the lawn,” answered Miss Simpson. “ It was too chilly 
for me to venture out,” she added, as a meek apology 
to outraged propriety. 

Major Wilton agreed that it was cold for the time of 
year, deuced cold, in fact. Miss Wilton laughed, : 


THE HEAD OP THE FIRM. 


353 


I see them/’ she cried. “ Til go and — but no, I 
mustn’t spoil sport.” 

“My dear — ! ” exclaimed Miss Simpson, horrified; 
the major looked as if he did not understand. 

Miss Wilton stayed half an hour ; she stayed an 
hour ; she stayed for tea ; she stayed after tea till twi- 
light, till the lamps were lighted. Mr. Thomas Des- 
borne — long wished for — had not come ; Major Wilton 
did not return. The evening promised to pass heavily. 
At last Miss Wilton said she really could wait for her 
Dad no longer ; she must go. 

“But you will stay for supper, surely,” expostulated 
Miss Simpson, earnestly hoping she would do nothing 
of the kind. 

“ Couldn’t possibly, thanks awfully,” said the young 
lady, putting on her hat, in which she looked bewitch- 
ing, and a fur cape that added a lovely touch of soft- 
ness to her beauty. “Good-evening, Miss Simpson. 
Good-by, you dear old darling,” she said, embracing 
Aileen with effusion. “ Good-evening, Mr. Vernham. 
No, no, I won’t hear of it,” she went on determinedly, 
as Philip murmured something about being allowed 
the pleasure of seeing her home. 

“ If you will not permit me to walk with you, I must 
walk after you,” said the one cavalier, a little awk- 
wardly. “I could not think of letting you go alone.” 

“ Mr, Vernham is quite right,” supplemented Miss 
Simpson. “ It is not fit for you to walk by yourself 
along these roads. If you must go, pray allow him to 
be your escort.” 

“ I assure you it is all on my way,” added Philip. “I 
am going to Kingston.” 

“ But you, at least, will return to supper,” said Miss 
Simpson. 

“ Thank you, no. I must return to town ; so if Miss 
Wilton will allow me to have the honor of accompany- 
ing her as far as Homewood, I shall be in good time 
for my train.” 

“ It is not fair,” pouted Miss Wilton, “ three against 


354 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


one, but what must be, must be. I am myself van- 
quished, though it will always lay heavy on my con- 
science that I have broken up this merry party." 

There was a good deal of laughing and talking while 
they all went into the hall, when Philip put on his coat 
and hat and took his stick. 

“ To defend me 1 ” suggested Miss Wilton, play- 
fully. 

“ If need be,” he answered. 

“ Good-night again, then ; I feel as if I had done 
something desperately wicked, but you’ll forgive me, 
won’t you ? ” said Miss Wilton, addressing Miss Simp- 
son and Aileen. 

At that moment, the latter suddenly saw Philip 
Vernham looking at her friend with an expression 
which stabbed her as if with a sword-thrust. Then he 
and Miss Wilton went out into the moonlight ; as they 
walked Miss Wilton turned and kissed her hand ; Philip 
raised his hat. 

“ Shut the door, my dear,” said Miss Simpson, shiver- 
ing, ** the wind blows very keen.” 


CHAPTER XXV. 


AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 

Never since Mr. Desborne entered into possession, 
had Ash water been so gay as during the golden sum- 
mer that followed after Aileen’s accession to fortune. 

There were garden parties, musical parties, boating 
parties, house parties, picnic parties, at homes, private 
theatricals — from all which delights the neighborhood 
was unkindly excluded, and as a return criticised 
freely. 

In truth, perhaps, the company, taken from the fringe 
of fashionable life, in society to a certain extent, out of 
it to speak with strict accuracy, was such as to excite 
the ire as well as the envy of those who could, to use 
their own expression, have bought and sold every man 
and woman of the connection ; and yet who, spite of 
their guineas, their respectability, and in many cases 
their talents, were left hopelessly behind in the race 
after the Upper Ten. 

It was all very well to call them camp followers, but 
they were admitted, spite of known impecuniosity, to 
houses hardly earned wealth and honestly acquired 
riches sighed in vain to enter. 

Everyone was remarkable, not because of his own 
merits, but because of the standing of someone else ; 
of himself he might be nothing, but he always turned 
out to be related to another person who was some- 
thing. 

Thus it came to pass that when anyone spoke about 
Mr. Smyth, he added grandson to Sir Clarence Smyth, 
of Waterloo Farm, or Jones, cousin to Baron Jones; 


356 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


Lucknow Jones, you know; or Eobinson, great-nephew 
of Earl Crusoe. These and many othei’ grandsons and 
granddaughters, cousins, nephews, brothers, sisters of 
remarkable individuals, were poor, as the lineal descen- 
dants and near relatives of great people often are, but 
Solomon, when apparelled in all his glory, was not better 
dressed ; they spoke well, they looked well, they had 
the indescribable tone of those who had always mixed 
well ; they were utterly satisfied with themselves, and 
possessed in perfection the art of rendering others dis- 
satisfied with their own less attractive persons and 
belongings ; when they condescended to walk or drive 
in the valley of the Thames they did so as if they were 
an invading and conquering army, they behaved as if 
they had bought the fee -simple of the river, and as 
though Providence had created the “ enamelled mead- 
ows ” of Strawberry Hill, the wooded slopes of Eich- 
mond, and the stretches of Bushey Park, merely that 
these things might furnish them with an opportunity 
for a few hours’ pleasure. 

There, for example, was Major Wilton. He had no 
claim personally to be considered an exalted individ- 
ual, but his father had been a nephew of the Marquis 
of Madeira, one of a noted set who held high festi- 
val with George the Fourth, and left behind him a 
noble legacy of debts for any descendant to pay that 
chose. 

Major Wilton was a loyal chip of the good old block, 
always in difficulties, always in more or less bad odor, 
always going through life with feelers out, trying where 
and how he could draw a little mone}^ from his fellows 
in a gentlemanly way. 

He was free of Ashwater ; he at whose house play 
ran high, who was to be seen on every race-course, 
who owed money to every tradesman round and about,' 
who paid as little as he could help, and got as much as 
he could ! People said, and they were right in saying, 
that Mr. Desborne acted wrongly in making such a 
man and men such as he free of Ashwater. 


TEE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


357 


But they did not know, how could thej’, that Mr. 
Desborne had as little control over his house as the 
greatest stranger who sat in judgment on him ; that it 
was not with his will, that it was indeed scarcely with 
his knowledge, the mad herd of fashion rioted through 
his grounds. His wife wished it, that was enough; 
she was happy, he rested content. He had made one 
honest effort to put affairs on a different footing un- 
availingl3\ All he could do, therefore, was to try and 
meet his expenses by self-denial, by closer attention to 
business, by endeavoring to increase his income, by 
availing himself of opportunities the Desbornes had 
hitherto deemed unfitting their attention. 

How he contrived to stave off those liabilities which 
came upon him suddenly in the previous October, with 
the peremptory insistance of an armed man, he alone 
knew. 

In times of peril it needs a steady brain and a well- 
balanced mind to refrain from throwing cherished pos- 
sessions to the wolves, if a few minutes of grace can be 
purchased by sacrificing them ; and it was for this 
reason that although he ought to have known his action 
could only defer the evil hour and not avert it, that 
Mr. Desborne went on promising, postponing, raising 
money by sale and mortgages, striving by hook or 
by crook to carry forward the evil day of settlement to 
a penod when he hoped he should be better prepared 
to meet it. 

When a man takes Hope for his banker, he must be 
in very bad case. The Head of the Firm had done 
this, and was consequently in very bad case indeed. 

Could he but have coined into gold all the fancies 
with which that deceitful financier tickled his ear, 
Croesus himself had not been so rich ; but the rain- 
bow’s hues, though splendid, are poor things to keep 
houses upon in a matter-of-fact age when railway com- 
panies refuse to issue season tickets on credit. 

Business was very good indeed, that was the one bit 
of real blue in the sky. For years the clerks in Cloak 


358 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


Lane had not seen so many clients or been so hard 
worked. To the prospectuses of various new com- 
panies, Messrs. Desborne & Son’s good name was ap- 
pended, for when once it was seen in the newspapers 
that the firm was willing to act in this sort of business, 
there came quite a rush of promoters to the quiet 
offices that had never opened their doors to such visitors 
in, as one of those visitors said, “ the old days before 
the flood.” 

Mr. Thomas Desborne did not like it, and advised 
caution ; but the worst of caution nowadays is that 
while a man deliberates his chances vanish, and there 
vras much commerciel truth in Mr. Knevitt’s remark to 
Mr. Puckle : 

“ It does not matter much what the companies are, 
so long as our costs are all right.” 

This was not Mr. Thomas Desborne’s view of the 
position, but he had so often remonstrated with his 
nephew for allowing business to slip away, that when 
he began to state his side of the case he found his own 
arguments used to defeat him. 

Nevertheless, he had influence sufficient to get many a 
“shady” venture refused, many a plausible rogue sent 
to find lawyers more complaisant. Desbornes, still 
strong in its own integrity, held up its head as of old, 
and turned an unabashed face to the world, though its 
junior partner didn’t like much of the new business, 
and wished most heartily “Ned had buckled to work 
before so many of their best friends took their affairs 
elsewhere.” 

No matter how fervent his wishes might be, how- 
ever, his nephew’s were more earnest still. 

If only he had not let the days go by unimproved ; 
if only he had stuck to law and left pleasure and phil- 
anthropy to others possessed of more money and more 
leisure ; if he had given his subscriptions after deliber- 
ation, and his time not at all, how differently he might 
then have been situated. In the watches of the nights 
he considered his uncle’s many words of wisdom, and 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


359 


lamented that he had not laid them to heart. In the 
noontide he could have prayed with Ahaz, though not 
for the same reason, that the shadow might turn back- 
ward ten degrees on the dial of his life. Ten degrees ! 
Oh, if only the past ten years could be restored to him, 
how he would labor, how wise he would become ! If 
he never before fully understood the folly of the five 
virgins, he comprehended then. Once the day of ex- 
istence stretched before him long and happy. Hour 
after hour was vouchsafed to him for labor ; hour after 
hour he wasted, he frittered away in pursuits that left 
no result, which, even when spent in striving to benefit 
his fellows, were comparatively barren of result. 

Sometimes, as he walked along the busy streets, 
hope deserting him for a moment, would leave an 
empty void in his heart for some terrible truth to take 
possession of. 

Once, just opposite the^ Baltic Coffee House, a verse 
in this way struck him a blow under which he almost 
reeled. 

“ Work while it is yet day, for the night cometh 
when no man can work.” Was his day well-nigh spent, 
was his night at hand? For a moment the sun seemed 
to give no light ; he did not see the pavement or the 
passers-by, or hear the noise of traffic ; then hope, 
like one who had but crossed the street, returned, and 
nestled in his breast once more, and said sweet com- 
forting words, and restored his fainting courage. Yes, 
while it was still day, he must work ; ample time re- 
mained. Matters were never so bad that it was im- 
possible to mend them. Business was capital ; plenty 
of money must soon be coming in, with more to follow. 
When the summer was over he would speak seriously 
to his wife, take her fully into his confidence, and be- 
tween them they would strike out some plan of re- 
trenchment. 

Meantime he could not spoil the pleasant time she 
was having at Ashwater, and parties in the country 
cost comparatively little. 


360 


TEE HEAD OP THE FIRM. 


“If only we can manage without speaking to her 
at all,” whispered hope, “and we may.” 

AVho does not know how the tale went on and con- 
tinued like a serial from week to week and from month 
to month ? Who that has in his own person paid the 
penalty for such folly, or paid the penalty of their folly 
for others, but could follow eveiy thought as it wound 
a devious way through Mr. Desborne’s mind. 

After a time even those who knew nothing from ex- 
perience of such misleading will-o’-the-wisps, began 
to notice that Mr. Desborne was not looking like him- 
self. 

“ Are you ill ?” several acquaintances asked him. 

“ No,” he answered, cheerily, “ perfectly well ; I am 
only a bit overworked.” 

“ Making haste to be rich? ” 

“That’s about it.” 

“ Well, you’d best be careful, money may be bought 
at too high a price,” and the speaker, while he uttered 
these words of wisdom, would shake his head in solemn 
waraing. 

As if Mr. Desborne did not know all about that 
practically ; as if he had not begun the race for life in 
which eventually everything a man values is flung to 
the winds ; as if he were not buying money at a price 
which sooner or later must bring ruin ! 

Mr. Thomas Desborne was not, any more than the 
city world, blind to his nephew’s changed appeamnce. 
Long before outsiders began to i*emark the pallid 
cheek, the dull eye, the many little hieroglyphics care 
as well as sickness graves on human faces, he had 
noted “how bad Ned looked,” how nervous he was 
getting, how restless yet languid he seemed, how thin 
his hands were. 

More than once he said, half laughingly, “You are 
doing too much ; you know you ai’e not accustomed to 
devote yourself to business in this frantic manner. 
There is no need to kill a willing horse ; ” but the 
Head of the Firm answered so certainly that he was 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


361 


well, that work suited him, that the warm weather 
alone caused those appearances of illness which alarmed 
his uncle, who looked after him as a hen fussed 
over one chicken, it proved difficult to pursue the sub- 
ject. 

At last, however, Mr. Thomas Desborne entreated 
him to take a holiday. “Run up to Scotland,” he 
said ; “ you have not had a thorough change for a 
long time.” 

“ I will when August comes,” was the reply; “ though 
really there is notliing the matter with me.” 

“ You have been trying to do too much. I advise 
you to spare yourself a little. There is surely no ne- 
cessity for you to slave as you have been doing for 
many months past.” 

“ On the contrary, there is every necessity,” returned 
his nephew, in one of those bursts of confidence which 
seem occasionally quite independent of our wills. “ I 
want money — I want to increase my income.” 

Mr. Thomas Desborne looked very grave, but not 
stern. He could not look stern in view of the changed 
face of one he loved better than all the world. 

“ I am sorry to hear you want money, Ned,” he re- 
plied. “ If you are really so short, I could spare you a 
hundred pounds, or even two.” 

His nephew felt inclined to laugh hysterically. A 
hundred, or even two! What were hundreds in his 
ocean of debts ! Good Heavens ! if he had never be- 
fore realized the length and breadth of the gulf which 
separated his uncle’s ideas from his own, never fully 
estimated the madness it would be to confess the state 
of his affairs, he did so then. 

“ Do you think I want to rob you ? ” he answered, 
putting a strong restraint upon himself and speaking 
with a cheerfulness which deceived his relative. ‘‘ Have 
I not taken enough, more than enough, from the kindest 
man on earth ? No, I am not in need of two hundred 
or even one hundred pounds, but I am anxious to do 
what you have always advised me to do, make Des- 


362 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


bornes return a larger income. Living is expensive 
nowadays, and it is wise to look to the future.” 

“It is, but not to lay yourself on a bed of sickness. 
Would it not be advisable to retrench a little ? ” 

“ It is so difficult to retrench.” 

“ But it may be necessary. I don’t like preaching, 
Ned, but do you think it is well to have so much com- 
pany at Ashwater ? ” 

Ned flushed. His uncle’s words made him flinch as 
though they touched a raw wound. 

“ It is the first time Captain and Mrs. Surville have 
been there, and my wife is anxious to make the visit 
pleasant. They will be going to Jndia shortly, in fact 
they intended to have left England in the spring, but 
he got an extension of leave.” 

“Yes?” said Mr. Thomas Desborne. 

“ And of course, when they go there will be an end of 
the company you object to.” 

“Nay, why should I object if you can afford it? ” 

“ I could not go on affording it, but, as I have said, 
it will be only for a short time.” 

“That is a good hearing, because no man should 
live up to the extreme verge of his income, more es- 
pecially a man whose income depends largely on his 
health. I am not so young as I was, and though I 
hope and believe I am good for many a year to come, 
still I might not be able to keep things going if you 
were laid up for an indefinite period. I do not think, 
Ned, you ought to be short of money,” he added in a 
softer tone, “or rather, anxious about it. You have 
been, and I am glad to be able to let you have, almost 
the whole of my share in the profits of this business ; 
then, during the last ten months. Miss Fermoy has 
paid you for the advantages she enjoys at the rate of 
six hundred per annum. I do not of course say that 
is all cash in pocket, but much of it must be. Mrs. 
Desborne’s settlement brings in four hundred and fifty 
pounds each year ; you have your father’s property ; 
you have only a low ground rent to pay for your 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


363 


Regent’s Park House and Ashwater, so really your in- 
come, taken as a whole, is handsome. Of course Miss 
Fermoy’s six hundred may cease at any time, but still, 
while it lasts it ought to be a help and ” 

“Do not say anything more, uncle, please,” inter- 
rupted Mr. Desborne, who felt this catalogue almost 
more than he could bear. “ Ei*e long, I intend to put 
my incomings and outgoings on a different and more 
satisfactory footing, but for this summer I wish to leave 
matters as they are.” 

“ I am very glad to hear you mean to set your affairs 
in order, and I won’t say another word on the subject. 
But, Ned, get away if only for a fortnight. Do not 
consider expense, your account may be low, so I will 
write you a cheque at once, and only ask in return one 
favor — that you come back stronger.” 

The words and the manner might have touched a 
heart of stone, and as Mr. Desborne’s was not stone, 
but very human flesh and blood, he could not answer 
for a moment, but sat struggling with a torrent of re- 
morse that proved almost overpowering. He stretched 
out a hand and held his uncle’s till he could speak, 

“ No, uncle, I will take no more from you,” he said at 
last. “ I do not want such a sum, really. If I did, I 
would tell you, and I cannot go away just yet, there is 
so much to attend to ; but when August comes I will 
get away. Scotland is the very place, you are right, 
you are always right.” 

And always had been right, that was the worst of it ! 

The whole way to Waterloo Station, where he walked 
via Queen Victoria Street and the Embankment in com- 
pany with a racking headache which he vainly sought 
thus to exorcise, Mr. Desborne preached a sermon to 
himself that had for text twelve words, “ I do not think, 
Ned, you ought to be short of money.” No, he ought 
not, never man was more helped, never man had finer 
chances, never man could have made a better thing of 
life ; once he had the world at his foot, and now what 
was he ? — a poor wretch weighed down by a very mill- 


364 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


stone of debt, afraid to open bis letters, afraid of every 
question bis uncle asked, afraid of wbat a day might 
bring forth, only sustained from hour to hour by a fal- 
lacious hope that the chapter of accidents might some- 
how end well for him ; that fortune, who had so often 
stood his friend, would again be gracious and bring 
help from some unexpected source which might enable 
him to stand erect once more. 

How often to one battling honestly against sore odds 
such help does come, the annals of struggling poverty 
could tell. At the darkest hour light has dawned ; 
from the most unlikely quarter a hand has been 
stretched forth as if from heaven to succor and save. 

But though this is true, the converse is true like- 
wise. Fortune does not go on showering her favors 
for ever, and when a man’s luck turns against him, how 
swiftly to ruin he goes. There is no use in trying to 
make head against that flood. As the “ stars in their 
courses seemed to fight against Sisera,” so everything 
in this world, the most casual circumstance, the most 
ordinary event, brings trouble in its train. Luck was 
going against him, that was the conclusion of the weary 
reverie. A wave of conviction brought that truth so 
forcibly home, Mr. Desborne paused under one of 
the plane-trees, with a half intention of returning to 
Cloak Lane and taking his uncle into confidence. 

“It will be hard for him to bear,” he thought, “but 
not so hard as the bankruptcy ! ” 

Slowly he walked across the pavement, and resting 
his arms on the stone parapet, looked at the sparkling 
water. If his uncle had stood beside him then he 
would have told him, but deliberation is death to im- 
pulse. 

As he watched the river gliding away, all he would 
have to tell recurred to him, all his criminal want of 
thought, all his blind folly, all his dishonest shiftless- 
ness, all his marital weakness, all his desperate attempts 
to retrieve his position, and, worst of all, his actual 
situation. He could not confess. He could not say. 


TBE BEAD OF TBE FIRM. 


365 


**I am afraid to look into the amount of my debts,” 
“I do not know how I am to retrench,” “I have not 
moral courage sufficient to meet my creditors,” “I am 
too fond of my wife to find fault with her expenditure.” 
Things would have to drift on as they were. An enor- 
mous influx of business might float his barque off the 
sands — it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that 
Besborne & Son would yet figure as a limited liability 
company. So far as he knew, no firm of solicitors had 
yet attempted to do anything of the sort, but all things 
must have a beginning. Why should Desbornes not 
set the fashion ? Why not, indeed ? The idea was as 
feasible as any of the other ideas with which he strove 
to cheat himself and quiet his conscience. 

“A lump sum of money,” that was the enchanting 
phrase Hope rang like joy bells in his ears. “A lump 
sum of money for a good old business, for an honest 
name, for an unblemished character. His uncle would 
not like it, but he might be talked over, and, besides, 
was not he, Edward Desborne, the Head of the Firm, 
in addition to which his uncle could not always ” 

At this point Edward Desborne resumed his walk 
toward Waterloo. If he had instead turned his face 
eastward that evening and steadily pursued his way 
cityward, Desbornes would have been saved and the 
festivities at Ashwater cut short. 

As matters were, when he arrived there the silence 
of a house whence nearly all life had fled, struck him 
with a cold sense of solitude. 

No one was playing lawn tennis, no young man in 
flannels, no girl in boating costume was to be seen 
coming up the walk from the river, the piano was 
closed, the drawing-room deserted, the blinds down, 
there was a general effect as though some one lay dead 
in an upper chamber. Mr. Desborne flung himself 
wearily into an armchair, and was marvelling where 
everybody had gone, what this new departure meant, 
when he heard a step on the gravel, one of the blinds 
was pushed aside, and Aileen entered through the 


366 


THE HEAD OP THE FIRM, 


open French window, carrying a garden hat full of 
flowers in her hand. 

“ Oh I I did not know that you had returned, Mr. 
Desborne,” she said, apologetically. “I hope you have 
not been back long.” 

“Only long enough to wonder whether Ashwater 
were an enchanted palace, and all its inhabitants under 
a spell,” he answered, with a smile. 

“ They are all gone to a garden party at Stoke D’Ab- 
ernon,” she exclaimed. 

“Except you?” 

“I am nobody, and I never go anywhere.” 

“Should you not have liked to be present at this 
affair?” 

“ Mrs. Desborne kindly wished me to accompany 
her, but I am really happier at home.” 

“ You are a strange girl.” 

“In what way ? ” 

“I can scarcely explain. Where is Miss Simp- 
son?” 

“ At Cobham.” 

“ So you alone have not followed the multitude to do 
evil?” 

“ I have not followed the multitude, at all events.” 

“ And when will anyone be back ? ” 

“ That is doubtful. Stoke D’Abernon is a long way 
off, and there was some talk about not driving back 
till the cool of the evening.” 

“ At what hour are we to dine, then ? ” 

“ Mrs. Desborne thought it would be pleasanter and 
more convenient to have an early supper.” 

“ A very good idea in such weather ; meanwhile 
may one ask for some tea? ” 

“ You shall have it at once,” and Aileen left the 
room to give orders, for though not actually residing 
with Mrs. Desborne, she had during all that summer 
been a frequent visitor at Ashwater, where she was 
now regarded as a person worthy of consideration, as 
one who could give and had given jewels worth twelve 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 867 

hundred pounds, and who would be a desirable bride 
for one of the impecunious Haiiingfords. 

Mrs. Surville was so keen about putting a good 
thing in the way of her family that she would have 
had the girl constantly at Teddington, but Aileen was 
not always anxious to be there— indeed, of her own 
free will she would never have entered the place while 
high revel was in progress. 

Ashwater in the dull season had once been pleasant 
to her, but she knew now she would always feel the 
giddy throng that gathered there, when leaves were 
green and roses bloomed, and the Thames was alive 
with outrigger and punt and canoe, utterly uncon- 
genial. 

It was not likely one so born, whose experiences had 
been so hard, whose ideals were so high, who cherished 
such unworldly and almost impossible notions of what 
men and women might be, should have more in com- 
mon with Mrs. Desborne’s guests than they with her. 

“I will go to Ashwater if you wish me,” she said to 
Miss Simpson, “ but I would rather not.” 

And this was quite true. “ Who am I that I should 
be here ? ” she thought. 

The life held no charm for her, the spectacle had no 
attraction. After seeing fashionable folk amusing 
themselves once, it seemed to this girl that she had 
seen them always. 

Their ways were different, of course, from Mrs. Fer- 
moy’s, but there was a likeness nevertheless. With all 
her heart Aileen rejoiced to get away from them. With 
all her soul she longed to be in some quiet place where 
the sound of their incessant chattering and light laugh- 
ter would fail to reach her ears. In the old days holi- 
day making had appeared bad enough, but to Aileen’s 
eyes, shadowed by the memory of former troubles, dim 
with the weight of unshed tears, the frivolous irrespon- 
sibility of that giddy throng appeared worse still. 

“They are just like a parcel of foolish children,” she 
rnurmui’ed to herself. 


368 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


The unhappy never can form quite fair judgments. 
Had Aileen been happy she might have looked with 
more toleration at the gay guests who, though no 
doubt burdened with cares and sorrows of their own, 
did all they could to make that summer a golden one. 

Looking at them, at people who resembled the lilies 
of the field inasmuch that, though arrayed like Solo- 
mon in all his gloiy, they toiled not, neither did they 
spin, spending life’s little day in flitting from amuse- 
ment to amusement, and sipping the honey of pleasure 
from every enjoyment that presented itself, the girl 
could but wonder if this were a sort of existence to be 
desired. 

It did not seem to her great, or good, or beautiful, 
but then, as has been said, she was unhappy. She was 
fighting her fight, she was passing through the greatest 
sorrow a woman can well be called on to endure, the 
sorrow that comes of the knowledge that she has 
loved unsought, and loved unloved. 

The discovery had pierced her heart like a sword, it 
had cut through every fibre of self-respect, every vein 
and nerve of dignity which, from the lady in the hall to 
the village maiden, is a woman’s just and best posses- 
sion. Like many an one before her, she had unwit- 
tingly thought love was only the truest gratitude, and 
not till she saw Philip Vernham, all unconscious, look 
with the inexpressible tenderness of a first affection on 
Caroline Wilton’s lovely face, did she awaken from her 
dream and understand the story that had lain hidden 
in her breast. 

All that night she lay awake wrestling with her 
troubles, seeking peace and finding none ; for days she 
sought solitude at every possible moment, and pacing- 
up and down the river walk, fought a long fight from 
which, at last, she came forth scarred, but victorious. 

“ W^ho was she to have dared, even unconsciously, to 
lift her eyes to him. No one in the world was good 
enough for Philip Vernham, but oh ! how she wished 
he had fixed his choice elsewhere.” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 369 

Often, when she thought formerly of the lady he 
would marry, she pictured some one young, beautiful, 
accomplished, gracious, but not in the least resembling 
jVIiss Wilton. 

She could not fancy that modern girl, kind though 
she was, his wife. She had always thought he would 
flee from such an one as from a pestilence. She had 
felt ashamed that he should hear her talk, notice her 
self-possessed manners — so assured, to say the least ; 
so fast, to say the worst. She was fond of Caroline 
Wilton, grateful to her ; she admired the beautiful face, 
the slender, willow-like figure, the lovely hands, the 
sweet voice, the subtle air of high breeding, which all 
her slang failed to neutralize ; but she was not poor 
Aileen's ideal — she was far from being the perfect 
creature to whom, though her own heart was rent, she 
would thankfully have given to the man she thought 
better than all the world. 

This was the simple story that had deepened Aileen’s 
life river, taught her more than Miss Simpson ever 
dreamed of, and produced a change many persons felt, 
though they could not define. 

If the malady be taken rightly, even an unreturned 
love, a love which can never be returned, exercises a 
beneficent effect on men and women, and as Aileen was 
not one to take a disease wrongly, Mr. Desborne 
thought he had never seen a sweeter, quieter girl than 
she who sat opposite to him in the cool, shaded draw- 
ing-room, pouring out that tea for which he longed. 

“If you remember,” he said, “I asked you in the 
spring whether you did not think it might be well to 
invest a portion of your yearly income in something 
likely to bring in a profit rather than keep so much 
money lying idle at your bankers.” 

“ Yes, I recollect,” she answered ; “ and I am afraid 
you thought me a little foolish because I said I liked 
to have the money in the bank ready to give away or 
waste without telling anybody what I wanted to do 
with it” 


370 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


‘‘ Indeed, no ; I was in the most perfect sympathy 
with you on that point, only you know I felt bound to 
point out a few thousands were buried in a napkin.” 

“ Hardly that,” she said, with a smile. “ Some of 
them have done good, or at all events given pleasure, 
and some more of them may perhaps do good or give 
pleasure in the future. Money is a very new thing to 
me ; no doubt I do not know much about the best way 
to use riches, but I hope I shall learn. It seems to me, 
however, there is no happiness in making a present if 
one is obliged to tell anybody one has made it.” 

“ Many persons are never happy in making a present 
unless they can tell everybody about it,” said Mr. Des- 
borne, with a bitterness foreign to his nature. 

Aileen imagined she had vexed him, and sat re- 
buked. 

“Why I recur to the matter is for this reason,” he 
went on, after a moment’s silence : “ A man in whose 
judgment I have confidence tells me a very pretty little 
property in Hampshire is to be sold at a very low 
figure, and I thought you might like to become a land- 
owner on a small scale. Here are the particulars,” 
and he handed Aileen a paper which set forth that 
Kackington Hall was to be sold for a sum which 
really seemed absurd. 

“The house, though old and small,” said Mr. Des- 
borne, “ has capabilities. There are lawns and shrub- 
beries, flower and kitchen gardens, a fine orchard, 
farmery, and three hundred acres of land ; so far as I 
can judge, the place is really a great bargain, and if 
you have such a thing as earth hunger, this seems a 
good opportunity to satisfy it.” 

“What should I do with the land ? ” asked Aileen. 

“ You could let it off. Do think the matter over. 
Kackington Hall would prove, I fancy, a good invest- 
ment.” 

The girl shook her head. “ I do not like to say no 
to anything you advise, Mr. Desborne,” she answered, 
“ but I have no wish for an estate or to use the money 


TEE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


371 


you are thinking about in that way. On the whole, I 
would rather buy a house in town ; but, indeed, I 
should prefer to do neither.” 

“Very well,” returned Mr. Desborne, “we will let 
the matter drop. I suppose our pleasure-makers have 
returned,” he added, as the hall door-bell pealed im- 
peratively. “ By the by, I conclude Miss Simpson was 
of the party ? ” 

“ Yes,” she wished to see Stoke D’Abernon, and — ” 

“ Major Wilton,” announced a servant, and the Major 
entered. 

“ I must beg your pardon for intruding,” he began, 
“ but as we were passing I thought I would leave this 
book ^Irs. Desborne wished to look at. Allow me to 
introduce my friend, Mr. Parkyn. Ah, Miss Fermoy, 
how-do ?’ In this dim religious light I did not recog- 
nize you. Mr. Parkyn, Miss ” 

“ I have already the pleasure of knowing Miss Fer- 
moy, ” interrupted Major Wilton’s friend, who though 
utterly astonished at the meeting, proved equal to the 
occasion. What a long time it is since we met,” and he 
held out his hand, which Aileen took, scarcely knowing 
what she did. 

“I hope you have been quite well,” he went on, 

“ Yes, thank you,” she faltered. 

“ I did not expect to have the happiness of meeting 
you here. Charming neighborhood, isn’t it ? ” and so 
he took possession of the girl, while Major Wilton talked 
to jVIr. Desborne. “ Capital fellow, Parkyn,” he said, 
sotto voce. “ Kan up against him accidentally in town 
this morning.” 

“ ‘ Now, you’ve never yet paid us that promised visit,’ 
I said. 

“ will some day,’ he replied. 

“ ‘No time like the present,’ I declared, quite just in 
that way pinning him down. ‘ Meet me at Waterloo 
6.30 sharp, and we’ll run down to my little crib, put 
you up for the night, and go over to Sandown together 
to-morrow.* 


372 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ ‘ Eight you are/ he said, clapping me on the back, 
so here he is.” 

If Major Wilton expected to be asked to dinner he 
was disappointed. There were times when that gallant 
officer palled on Mr. Desborne, and consequently, when 
he had exhausted hope he was fain to retire from Ash- 
water, taking his guest with him. 

That evening, before she went upstairs, Aileen took 
an opportunity of changing her mind. 

“ I have been thinking over what you said about the 
Hampshire place, and believe it might be well to buy it. 
We could pay the money out of those shares.” 

“ Ah ! then I must speak to my uncle about that, 
and hear if he approves of dipping further into your 
principal.” 


CHAPTER XXVL 
“major Wilton’s advice.' 


There is a very absurd error into which many per- 
sons have a way of falling — namely, fancying because a 
man consorts with rich people he must himself be rich. 
They seem to imagine wealth is catching like smallpox, 
and that consequently no one can be long in its com- 
pany without contracting the same generous com- 
plaint. 

Major Wilton had allowed himself to be deceived by 
this delusion. 

Believing as he did that the Desbornes, uncle and 
nephew, were “wallowing in gold — wallowing,” he 
jumped to the conclusion Mr. Vernham must be on the 
high road to “ wallow ” likewise. 

It is necessary in some states of life to take a great 
deal for granted, and the Major took a great deal in- 
deed. He imagined that not merely did this new friend 
possess a small fortune, but felt satisfied he was in the 
right way to make a prodigious one. Further, seeing 
Aileen Fermoy had succeeded to her uncle’s money, he 
saw no just cause or impediment why Philip should 
not succeed to his uncle’s money. 

He did not actually know whether the young man 
owned an uncle, but that was a mere detail. If he had 
not an uncle he must have some other rich relatives. 

“There is such solidity about city folks,” he was 
wont to remark, and young Vernham’s reticence con- 
cerning his position only tended to strengthen the 
good Major’s belief that it was unassailable. 

He made inquiries concerning Bricers as he might 


374 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


about a gold mine, and finding they were ‘‘ Al, Sir,” 
built up a very pretty little romance on the strength 
of his information. 

No man could have welcomed another to his “hum- 
ble abode ” with warmer hospitality than he did this 
“ rising young man,” and the young man, quite una- 
ware of what was in the Major’s mind, felt grateful for 
kindness which he deemed absolutely disinterested. 

The fact that Philip knew nothing of cards, and 
declined to venture a bet on this and that favorite, 
only confirmed his belief in the great future looming 
before this prudent young citizen. 

“ That is how they make their pile,” declared Major 
Wilton, alluding to the ways of East End worthies. 
“ Ah, if my poor father had only bound me apprentice 
to some honest trade I might have been dealing in my 
millions, instead of cursing an ungrateful country for 
its niggardliness,” which is a pretty way many gallant 
gentlemen in the receipt of half-pay have of extolling 
themselves while depreciating others. 

Having seen with half an eye that Mr. Philip Vern- 
ham was “ gone ” on his daughter, he, with the prompt 
action of an old soldier who “ought to have been 
general, begad,” made this desirable suitor at once free 
of his home and hearth in that cordial way in which 
such people, when attracted by self-interest, do kind 
things. 

At the same time Miss Wilton welcomed her admirer 
also for many reasons, not the least among which 
chanced to be that she enjoyed the sport. 

She liked him, she knew he “was over head and 
ears in love ” with her. He was a novelty, so simple, 
so honest, so unlike other men who had come wooing ; 
she believed he either was or would be rich — she 
wanted a home, she wished to be away from her father, 
all these influences were at work, but an influence 
stronger than any was that influence of sport which 
makes a cat spring on a mouse, and a dog watch for a 
rat, and a man stalk a deer. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


375 


She felt satisfied foolish Aileen loved this grave if 
not potent signor, and though undoubtedly she was 
very fond of Aileen, and had good reasons for being 
grateful to that fortunate young person, she never even 
thought of not leading Mr. Vernham into temptation — 
rather she used every art of which she was mistress to 
lure him on. 

And Philip let himself be lured. Though there were 
times when he fought hard against his fate and re- 
mained absent and vowed he would keep away from 
the “Lorelei” and refuse to listen to her song, he 
came back again to bask in her beauty and depart 
more under the spell of her enchantment than ever. 

When this had been going on for some months the 
Major thought it would be prudent to bring matters to 
a point, and accordingly, on the Saturday after Mr. 
Parkyn’s visit he opened fire. 

He was the more strongly moved to do this because 
he had not backed the right horse at Sandown, and 
saw that the more fortunate Mr. Parkyn, who had, was 
much struck by his daughter’s beauty, knowledge of 
equine matters, and proficiency in slang. 

Philip Vernham condoned the phrases which passed 
her sweet lips ; IVIr. Parkyn enjoyed them. He was 
even good enough to add a few choice novelties to her 
store. Further, he so managed her bets that the lady 
came in a winner by what she called a clear ten pound 
length. 

Altogether, he felt the time was propitious, so as 
they sat over their coffee after dinner, he hinted gent- 
ly that he had noticed Mr. Vernham’s admiration for 
his daughter. 

Never was man so taken aback as the incipient mil- 
lionaire ; he colored furiously, he stammered out some 
vague apology in a manner which might have moved 
a judge to pity, but did not affect Major Wilton 
in the least. Instead, that gentleman led him on to 
confess that he worshipped Miss Wilton as the one 
particular star at which he had no right to gaze. 


376 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


He bad no excuse to offer. He simply pleaded 
guilty, and there was an end of the case from the crim- 
inal’s point of view. Nothing remained save to pass 
sentence, but this was a ceremony the Major felt too 
much surprised and disgusted to proceed with. 

“Do you mean to tell me,” he said, in incredulous 
expostulation, “ that you are actually in i)ossession of 
no income whatever ? ” 

“ I have nothing beyond my salary.” 

“ Which is handsome, no doubt,” suggested Major 
Wilton, searching for extenuating circumstances. 

“ Quite the contrary ; clerks are not paid according 
to merit,” answered the lover with an attempt to speak 
lightly which would have disgraced a poor wretch with 
a halter round his neck. 

“ Just like the service,” murmured Major Wilton, 
apparently under the impression there was no service 
but his own. “ You have expectations, however.” 

“Yes, I have expectations, or rather hopes, that 
Messrs. Bricer may raise my salary some day.” 

“And do you mean to tell me, sir, that without 
money or expectations you have time after time come 
here to entrap my daughter’s affections.” 

Philip Vernham might very reasonably have replied 
that he had come to Homewood Lodge because of the 
Major’s pressing invitations, but all spirit had died out 
of him and he sat silent as one condemned. 

The Major also sat silent. This result was not what 
he had expected. If he had spoken his mind he 
would have said something very strong about swind- 
lers and being swindled, but he felt the end was not 
yet, and that it might be prudent to keep his feelings 
under control. There were the Desbornes ; there was 
Ashwater ; there was the city ; there was Miss Fermoy. 
“Hang it all,” he thought, “ there’s money when all’s 
said and done. He can’t be so badly off. He ought 
not to be badly off, he need not be badly off if he’d 
only put his shoulder to the wheel.” 

He liked the young man. He had sometimes 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


377 


twinges of conscience, if such an old reprobate could 
be said to have a conscience, when he looked at his 
daughter and considered her future if his poor pro- 
tection were gone forever. Admirers had been hers in 
plenty, but few indeed were the men wdio offered 
themselves as candidates for the honor of her hand. 
The General had betaken himself off in dudgeon. He 
was not fond enough of Miss Wilton to forgive two 
nights running of ill-luck, and Miss Wilton was not 
fond enough of her father’s old friend to have married 
him, even for a home. 

There had been so many disappointments, and here 
was another. The Major felt he could scarcely bear it 
with equanimity. Young, good-looking, well born, 
well mannered, steady, an ideal husband, if only pos- 
sessed of money. 

“ No chance of a partnership ? ” he said, at the end 
of his reverie. 

“Not the slightest.” 

“ No chance of anything ? ” 

“ Perhaps, if I pressed for it, Messrs. Bricer might 
find me a post in South America.” 

“ Then, why don’t you press for it. I suppose you 
would have a chance of doing well out there ? ” 

“ Yes ; if I did not die, as so many fellows have 
done, I dare say I should have a chance of getting 
on.” 

“ Pooh ! there’s not the least necessity for you to 
die. Look at me, broiled in the East Indies, stewed 
in the West, baked on the Gold Coast, and yet here I 
am hale and sound, younger than many men half my 
age. You would be quite as safe in South America as 
in London. Place makes no difference. When once 
Death has a warrant out for you, it is useless to try to 
bilk him. There is no country in the habitable globe 
beyond the reach of his extradition treaty. Terra del 
Fuego or Tyburnia, Texas or Teddington, it is all one. 
Death is everywhere, life is everywhere, only money is 
not everywhere. Go where you can get it.” 


378 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“If I might only carry hope with me,” said the 
young man, timidly. 

“ Of course ; why shouldn’t you ? Hope is free to 
all. If I wished to do so, I could not prevent you from 
packing up hope in your kit, but I have no wush of the 
sort. Hope is man’s birthright, and I am no Esau. 
Of course my girl can’t marry a pauper, but you are 
both young. Waiting won’t hurt either of you.” 

“ Do I understand,” hesitated Philip, “ that I — that 
I — may speak to your daughter ” 

The major laughed. “ My good lad, you have 
spoken to her,” he said, “ in a language comprehended 
of all peoples, but I can allow no nonsense, no engage- 
ment, no marriage till you are very differently situated. 
You must not come here as you have been doing — it is 
a thing I can’t permit, it is what I should not have 
permitted had I suspected your real position. Now it 
will better for you to go ; you can think over what I 
have said. If you were the younger son of a duke I 
would not treat you differently.” 

“ Indeed, I am most grateful. I could never have 
expected to be treated so well. May I say ‘ Good night * 
to Miss Wilton?” 

“ Assuredly, but it must be only ‘ Good night,’ till I 
hear you have set to work to make your fortune.” 

To secure which desirable abstinence. Major Wilton 
accompanied his guest first to the drawing-room and 
then to the hall door, where he “ God blessed ” his 
daughter’s lover with great fervor before sending him 
out into the night, and closing the front door after 
him. 


i 


CHAPTER XXm 


MR, TRIPSDALE’s GREAT-GRAND-AUNT. 

Mr. Tripsdale in a low gray hat, light summer suit, 
and tie to match, was a person to be remembered ; but 
Mr. Tripsdale in a black hat of the same build, with an 
adorned mourning-band almost as deep as the crown, 
black suit fresh from the hands of the tailor, jet studs, 
and a new black tie, was a spectacle never to be for- 
gotten. 

Thus attired he walked into Messrs. Desborne’s 
office on the Monday morning after Mr. Vemham’s in- 
terview with Major Wilton, and proceeded to hang up 
his hat modestly, yet after the fashion of a man who, 
while not exactly proud, realizes the fact that a great 
dignity having been thrust upon him, he means to 
comport himself in a manner worthy of it. 

“ Hallo ! who’s dead ? ” asked Mr. Knyvitt, who had 
just come downstairs. 

“ Not you,” replied Mr. Tripsdale. 

“ You’d be sorry if I were, wouldn’t you ? ” answered 
the other. 

“ If I said yes I should be telling an untruth, but 
this much I promise, that I’ll go to your funeral if it 
lies in my power.” 

“ That’s very good of you, and if you die before me 
I’ll reciprocate the kindness. But who has joined the 
majority ? ” 

“ That’s my affair,” was the rejoinder, and no further 
light was thrown on the matter till some hours after, 
when Mr. Tripsdale asked if he might absent himself 
on the following day. 

“ Do you particularly wish to do so ? ” inquired Mr. 


380 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


Thomas Desborne, to whom he had addressed his pe- 
tition. “ We are very busy at present, as you know.” • 

‘‘ I am aware of that, sir, and I should not ask for a 
holiday were it anything less peremptory than death 
in question. The fact is, however, I want to attend 
the funeral of my father’s grand-aunt.” 

Mr. Desborne looked at the speaker with a funny 
twinkle in his eyes. Mr. Tripsdale and Mr. Tripsdale’s 
manner might have meant that his whole family had 
been swept off the face of the earth, in which case he 
could have worn no deeper mourning. 

“ Were you very fond of youi’ father’s grand-aunt ? ” 
he asked. ' 

“ No, sir ; my great-grand-aunt, though a lady pos- 
sessed no doubt of many attractions, never thought it 
worth her while to try to attract me, hence arose a i 
coldness on my part.” I 

“ Then why do you consider it necessary to attend j 
the funeral ? ” j 

“ Because my brother and I are the nearest relatives , 
on her first husband’s side, and though I cannot affect | 

grief, I should like to show respect. I feel sorry, sir, i 

that I am not sorry, if you can understand what I 
mean.” 

“ I think I can,” was the dry answer. ‘ ‘ And at what 
hour is she to be buried? ” j 

“ At a most inconvenient hour, eight thirty to-morrow < 
morning, over forty miles from London. Evidently [ 
her relations, who are not our relations, desire to put' j 
us to as much inconvenience as possible.” j 

“ I should imagine they are in a hurry to hear the will j 
read,” suggested Mr. Thomas Desborne, shrewdly. 

“Possibly, sir ; but whether the old lady has left a 
will or not cannot affect us in the least.” 

“ You think she has left you nothing ? ” 

“Quite certain she has not.” 

“ By the by, what is your brother doing ? ” 

“ Wood engraving, sir.” Art was a word Mr. Trips- 
dale never mentioned in Cloak Lane. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


381 


“ Getting on well ? ” 

“ Very fairly, sir, considering. He has always plenty 
of work.” 

“I am glad of that. You may have to-morrow. I sup- 
pose you can manage to be here Friday morning?” 

The mourner intimated that nothing should prevent 
his appearing at the time mentioned, except sudden 
death or a railway collision, after which the interview 
terminated and work proceeded in the clerks’ office as 
usual, where clients were all that day much impressed 
by the chastened politeness of Mr. Tripsdale’s manner 
and the newness of his clothes ; for out of respect to his 
great-grand-aunt’s memory, he never changed his 
coat all day, though an old one, somewhat gone in 
color, hung on the accustomed peg, and with a gentle 
solicitation touched its master each time he drew near. 

When the brothers that evening put on their hats, 
locked their doors and went downstairs, Reginald 
carrying a small travelling-bag, it seemed to both that 
a great change had taken place since Saturday morn- 
ing, when the news reached them. 

They were very pale, not at all exultant, and looked 
as little like men who had just come into money as can 
well be imagined. 

They walked down Curtain Road and so on to Liv- 
erpool Street in silence. They entered the booking 
office, when Reginald said to the clerk, “ Two third^^ 
return, Bishop Stortford, please,” with a gravity which 
might have impressed that individual, but did not ; then 
they went down the steps, passed through one of the 
wickets and secured seats, back to the engine. 

“ Should you like an evening paper ?” asked Reginald. 

“I do not think you need buy one,” was the answer. 

‘‘Better to be up in the latest news. We are going 
into the heart of the country, remember.” 

“All right,” agreed Gus amiably, willing that his 
brother should be able to astonish the heart of the 
country. 

“ We’ve been very happy, Reggie, haven’t we?” 


882 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“Happy, why, of course we have ; what made you say 
that?” 

“I don’t know, only money doesn’t always bring 
happiness.” 

“ It does if people know how to use it.” 

They had the compartment to themselves after leav- 
ing Stratford, but they did not speak again till the ex- 
press had torn through Lea Bridge and Tottenham, 
and was heading with giant strides for the Marshes. 

“Isn’t the air sweet ? ” asked Gus, looking away across 
the level to Sewardstone and Chingford. “Do you 
remember the Christmas we went down here after our 
father died ?” 

“Shut up, can’t you?” retorted Keginald, whose 
own heart was too full of memories to bear with equa- 
nimity even one other being added to the store. 
“ What a winter that was,” he added, more gently. 

Enfield Highway, “Waltham Abbey, Cheshunt, Hod- 
desden, Broxbourne, Ware, were left behind and then 
Gus spoke again. 

“ Keggie, suppose there’s anything wrong about that 
money V’ 

“How do you mean wrong?” 

“ That it has been used.” 

“ It has not been used.” 

“We cannot be sure.” 

“I am sure. I have seen to it.’* 

“ Oh ! ” said Gus, meekly. 

“ Did you think ? ” demanded his brother, descend- 
ing from the eminence of conscious power to common- 
place explanation, “ Did you think I was such a soft 
as to trust old Wrenkin. Oh ! dear, no. I took par- 
ticularly good care to ascertain he had not converted 
the cash into ducks and drakes. He was greatly hurt, 
he asked why I was unwilling to trust his word, and I 
said because if I found his word were not to be trusted, 
it would be too late to get back our money, though, 
probably, quite in time to institute further proceed- 
ings.” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


383 


‘‘That was stiff.” 

“So he seemed to think, but I did not care,” and 
Mr. Tripsdale, sinking back, folded his arms and looked 
defiantly out at the landscape over which tender even- 
ing shadows were beginning to fall. 

“ It will be rather a long tramp from Bishop Stort- 
ford in the dark,” he observed at last. 

“Yes,” answered Gus, and he said no more. All the 
spirit seemed to have died out of him. 

“ I know what you are thinking about,” remarked 
Mr. Tripsdale. “ You are considering you will have 
to go to Rome, and that is the best thing you can con- 
sider. You’ll have to go to Rome, away from London, 
and Bartholomew Square, and Polly, and me. We are 
turning over a new leaf, old boy, one on which you’ve 
got to write a name and a fortune — if you are able — 
but a name anyhow ; and I have to fit myself for a con- 
siderable rise in the social scale, so as not to bring dis- 
credit on the brother who some day will be the com- 
panion of princes, and must forget all our old pranks 
and Saturday nights in Hoxton and Stratford Broad- 
way.” 

“ If I do, may I never touch brush again,” said the 
young fellow, passionately. 

“ Bosh, we’ve got to forget the days when we dined 
with Duke Humphrey and supped with — who the 
deuce did we sup with ? ” 

“ Don’t talk like that, or you will make me wish the 
old lady had taken the two thousand pounds with her.” 

“ I believe that is what you are wishing now. Gus, 
you have no ambition, you love your ease and trodden 
ways, and down-at-heel slippers far too much.” 

“ All those good things I do love.” 

“ Well, you must cease loving them this hour. You 
must transfer your young affections to Rome and art 
and fame and fortune, do you hear me ? ” 

“ Yes, I hear you.” 

“ Then let us have no more folly,” said Mr. Trips- 
dale, sternly. 


384 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


The train rushed on through the darkness as it had 
rushed through the evening light, till it paused for a 
minute’s rest at Bishop Stortford, where the brothers 
got out and started to walk the last stage of their 
journey. 

“ Is not the smell of the country delicious? ” ventured 
the elder, for he knew Beginald’s heart was sore with- 
in him. 

“ It may be, but give me the smell of London,” was 
the uncompromising reply. 

They put up at a small inn for the night and made 
their frugal supper off bread and cheese and ale, “ food 
fit for the gods,” observed Reginald ; “ many a night not 
so long ago we’d have thought it a feast.” 

Gus did not answer. 

“ Be kind enough to have breakfast ready for us at 
seven o’clock to-morrow morning,” said Mr. Tripsdale 
to the landlady, speaking as one having authority, and 
then they went to bed, but not to sleep. 

“ The noises of the country are death to sleep,” ex- 
plained Reginald next day, and Gus never contradicted 
him. 

For the last time they went over to Elder Tree farm, 
where their reception proved as cool as the weather 
was warm. Nothing, how’ever, no frigid civility, no 
unfriendly glances, no lack of ordinary hospitality, 
could disturb the studied propriety of Mr. Tripsdale’s 
manner. If neither kinsman nor clergyman knew the 
correct procedure, he did, and nothing they ignorantly 
chose to do could disconcert him in the least. 

Even the undertaker and clerk were nowhere in the 
ceremony. All eyes were turned on this extraordinary 
mourner as he stood by the grave, all ears were bent 
on catching his “ amen ; ” and the way in which, after 
the funeral service was over and the churchyard left 
behind, he lifted his hat to the assemblage in token of 
forgiveness and farewell, struck everyone who beheld 
with astonishment. 

Mr. Wrenkin hurried after him and said, “ One mo- 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 385 

ment, if you please/’ but Mr. Tripsdale waved him 
back with dignity and remarked : 

“ My solicitor is Mr. Ansdell, of Evangelist Court, 
E. C., to whom any communication may be addressed.” 

“ And well the old sinner knows who is behind Mr. 
Ansdell, of Evangelist Court, E. C./’ he said to his 
brother as they walked (not at too great a speed, for 
that would have been a mistake) away from their grand- 
aunt’s children and gTandchildren, who did not love 
them, who makes the bullets Mr. Ansdell fires, ay, 
and tells him where to aim.” 

Gus would have liked to go into Elder Tree farm- 
house, and felt sorely tempted to look back at the old 
place ; but, wiser than Lot’s wife, he refrained, other- 
wise lest some withering sarcasm or scathing glance 
might transform him into a pillar of salt. 

“ So closes another chapter in life,” exclaimed Begi- 
nald, 

“ Yes,” said his brother. “ I wish we could have bid 
them all good-b}", I do,” he added stoutly. “What- 
ever they may have been lately, they were kind to us 
once.” 

“ You make no mistake about that ! ” returned Begi- 
nald ; “ if they were ever civil, it was only that they 
might ‘ do ’ us the more effectually. You may thank 
your lucky stars I know a thing or two. Now about 
Borne.” 

“ There is plenty of time to think about Borne,” was 
the somewhat pettish reply. “ I can’t go there in the 
summer, and what I want to know before I stir a step 
is this : Will you article yourself at once ? ” 

“ I shall take steps to do so certainly, but I can’t 
leave Messrs. Desborne without due notice.” 

“ You can leave them next Saturday week,” returned 
his brother; “weekly pay, Aveekly notice.” 

“ In strict law, perhaps, not in honor. As employ- 
ers go, they have not treated me badly. No, I won’t 
leave them in the lurch like that.” 

“ Well, give them as long notice as you please, only 


SS6 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


put the matter in train. I want to see you on the 
straight road to a good practice now, or .else I know 
exactly what you will do.” 

“ What is that ? ” 

“ You will keep grinding away just as you are and 
not spend a penny of your money, so that I may have 
it all. I know the wickedness of your heart, I do ! 
You may deceive other people, but you can’t deceive 
me.” 

They walked a little way in silence, then Reginald 
said, “On my word of honor I will give notice this 
week, but you must do your part. No skulking, re- 
member.” 

“ Very well,” agreed Gus, and as what Mr. Reginald 
Tripsdale styled a “ steam crawler ” stopped at the little ' 
town wdiere they had stayed the night, the brothers 
returned to London in a compaidment so full of pas- / 
sengers that happily no opportunity presented itself l 
for continuing, the discussion. 

During the remainder of the week Messrs. Desbornes’ 
clerk held on his way with a disregard of Mr. Ruckle’s ■. 
fishing questions, and Mr. Knyvitt’s taunts, in a man- ‘ 
ner which might have been thought Christian by any 
one unaw^are he was upheld not by faith, but by the ! 
thought Saturday would see the explosion of a shell in ■ 
Cloak Lane. 

“ When they have me no more they wdll know my 
w^orth,” he thought; “ the bare idea of losing his slave 
will uncurl Knyvitt’s whiskers. Who’ll keep things \ 
straight in the morning ? who’ll screen his goings and 
returnings during the day ? who’ll run his errands and 
bear his insolence, always returning that soft answer I 
which makes his wrath worse and drives him to the I 
verge of distraction ? Why, no one, ah ! he’ll mourn for a 
me in sackcloth and ashes, and serve him right too ! ” i 
he finished, with a burst of triumphant rage wdiich J 
“ dimly revealed the vulture tearing at his heart.” 

In spite of these mental goadings to fury, however, 
he pursued the even tenor of life in Cloak Lane till 


THE HEAL OF THE FIRM. 387 

Saturday, when he again sought an interview with Mr. 
Thomas Desborne. 

Very different emotions crowded upon him as he as- 
cended the staircase from those which had filled his 
heart on that memorable afternoon when he crawled 
slowly down, breathing forth threatenings against Mr. 
Knyvitt. 

“ Then ” so ran his reflections, “ I was poor and un- 
considered, “ a very worm for that ruffian of a manag- 
ing clerk to tread under his feet. Now I am a man of 
independence, beyond the world, about to shake the 
dust of Cloak Lane from my shoes, going into pastures 
new where I can browse at will, and chew at my own 
leisure the sweet and bitter cud of law, especially 
criminal law. What a change the snuffing out of one 
old life has made, and yet — but courage, Eeginald.” 

Reginald had need of all his courage, for, spite of all 
this grandiloquent bombast, the poor fellow was one of 
the most simple and affectionate creatures imaginable. 

He had a cat’s attachment to place, a dog’s love for 
persons ; the daily task, the common ground held 
attractions for him he would have denied strenuously. 
He liked everyone in his office, even the new elderly 
clerk and Mr. Knyvitt, spite of the fits of exasperation 
which the latter individual delighted to provoke. May 
it be said, if Mr. Knyvitt had not so continually girded 
at him Reginald Tripsdale would have gone through 
fire and water to serve the managing clerk, whose 
“head was screwed on the right way.” It was that 
fact, indeed, which so aggravated Mr. Tripsdale. “If 
he were a fool, like Ruckle, it wouldn’t signify, but he 
ain’t.” 

And now the greatness thrust upon him commanded 
that he should leave this earthly paradise, tenanted by 
men who were but a little lower than angels, and go 
forth among a people who knew not Reginald Trips- 
dale and were unknown by that exalted personage. 

Not like a conqueror did he enter Mr. Thomas 
Desborne’s presence, but rather after the fashion of 


388 


THE HEAD OF THE Fimi. 


some unfortunate devil who, having done wrong, 
expected and was prepared to receive a wigging. 

“ If you please, sir, ” not a dignified beginning, 

but courteous and fitting. 

“Yes,” said Mr. Thomas Desborne. 

“I am veiy sorry to say I want to leave.” 

“ What is wrong now? ” 

“Nothing is wrong, sir, but I have come into a little 
money, and I think I can’t spend it better than in 
articling myself.” 

“Oh! then your great-grand-aunt did leave you a 
legacy after all ? ” 

“ No, sir, but I succeeded to a matter of a thousand 
pounds she has been keeping me out of for seventy- 
three years.” 

“ For how many years ? ” 

“ Seventy-three.” 

“ That is a long time. How did she manage it ? ” 

“My great grand-uncle, her first husband, left 
£2,000 to her for life ; she was twenty-five when he 
died. The plate on her coffin said she was in her 
ninety-ninth year. Take twenty-five from ninety-eight, 
and seven ty-three remains.” 

“ You have gone through that small sum in subtrac- 
tion pretty often, I imagine.” 

“ I don’t deny it, sir, but when the black-edged letter 
came I was not so glad as I expected to be.” 

“ And now you want to leave us ? ” 

“I do not want to leave, at the same time it would 
be useless to deny I wish to rise in the world. It is 
natural, sir.” 

“ Perfectly natural, but why can’t you begin to rise 
in this office ? ” 

“ I have always had a fancy for the criminal business, 
sir. The bent of my ability is inclined that way.” 

“ Ah ! we cannot accommodate your taste here. It 
is a pity.” 

“ May I take it, sir, that you will accept this in lieu 
of a more formal notice ? ” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


389 


‘‘TJndoubtedly, and I wish you every success.” 

I am sure you do, sir ; you have always been very 
kind to me, and I thank you,” 

Mr. Thomas Desborne acknowledged this grateful 
testimony with a deprecatory wave of his hand, and 
began turning over his papers as a sign that he con- 
sidered the interview at an end. 

The door did not open and close, however, so he 
looked round to discover the reason, and beheld Mr. 
Tripsdale standing ruminant, one hand grasping the 
handle and the other covering his mouth. 

“Well?” asked Mr. Thomas Desborne. 

“It seems hard to go, sir, after so many years.” 

“ The choice is yours. Surely it is your own free 
will which severs our connection.” 

“ I know that, sir, but ” 

^ Mr. Thomas Desborne laid down his pen and threw 
his left arm over the rail of his chair, so as more effec- 
tually to get the young fellow within his field of vision. 

“I would not be in too great a huiTy, Tripsdale,” 
he said, with a softer tone in his incisive voice. “ You 
have given the firm notice, and I have accepted it. So 
far good. It is right you should wish to article your- 
self, a laudable ambition never did harm to anyone ; but 
I do not exactly see the sense of your leaving us. I do 
not care for new faces, even if sometimes I could wish 
the old were a little different, and though you are far 
too much given to act the mountebank and overrate 
your own abilities. I believe you are at bottom a good 
and honest young man, very fairly clever, and possess- 
ing a desirable reserve of common sense. We should 
have no objection whatever to keeping you on as an 
articled clerk. I do not think you will better your 
position by going elsewhere, and what is more, I do 
not think you believe yourself that you will better it. 
Think the matter over, take a week, or a fortnight, or 
a month, so far as that goes, then let me know your 
decision. Meantime the affair can remain strictly 
between ourselves. I will look out for another junior 


390 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


clerk at once, so that he may be learning his duties ; 
therefore, whether you go or stay, no one will be incon- 
venienced. Does my suggestion recommend itself to 
you ? 

Mr. Thomas Desborne paused, and Mr. Tripsdale 
answered, “ Yes, sir, I don’t know what I want.’" 

“It is all so new to you,” his principal said, by way 
of excuse. 

“No, sir, it is not that, for I have had this in my 
mind for years, and the criminal notion I always did 
take to.” 

“You could work your criminal notion out after- 
ward.” 

“ I did not think of that, but I can’t give an answer 
now, sir. I will consider the matter, as you are good 
enough to permit.” 

“ Do so by all means, and Tripsdale ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Whether you stay or go, be sure we will do all we 
can to help you.” 

“ Now, is not this rough on a man? ” said Mr. Trips- 
dale to himself as he went down the stairs, “ when I 
had braced myself to the sticking-point, too. It is the 
old fable of the north wind and the sun. If he had 
only been a bit rough ; but there, perhaps things are 
better as they are ; any way, I won’t say yes or no yet 
a while.” 

“ What’s up now ? ” asked Mr. Puckle, noticing the . 
signs of thought on Mr. Tripsdale’s brow, and believ- 
ing they pointed to ‘ Gloom.' ” 

“ Nothing is up so far as I am aware,” replied Mr. 
Tripsdale, “ but you’ll soon be down if you don’t mind 
your manners.” 


CHAPTER XXVHL 


MB. PARKYN SUGGESTS. 

After calm comes storm, a fact which is not gener- 
all}' known, simply because people believe only what 
they wish to believe. It is the old business of the 
seven good, and the seven thin and ill-favored kine 
over again. There was only one man in Egypt who 
understood that dream, whereas had the lean kine pre- 
ceded the good, every one’s mouth would have been 
open to prophesy fair things. 

For nearly two months after the evening when 
Aileen made tea for Mr. Desborne, life passed very 
smoothly at Ash water. Duns did not make day a per- 
petual harass, the posts were singularly bare of inci- 
dents, no acceptances had to be provided for, no money 
lenders dined tete~d,4Ue with Mr. Desborne, dispar- 
aged his wine, or found fault with his management. 

Existence flowed by as quietly as the Thames, sun- 
shine sparkling on its surface, and care lying well out 
of sight in its depths. After his winter and spring ex- 
periences, Mr. Desborne might, perhaps, be excused 
for imagining every day that passed without bringing 
some trouble, w^as a day gained. The calm did not 
daunt him ; if he thought about it at all, the only idea 
suggested was that the storm was over and peace 
come. 

He felt better, looked more like his former self, the 
lines of care were not so marked, his voice had a differ- 
ent ring, his smile was more the smile of old. He had 
managed to raise enough money to stop the mouths of 
several importunate creditors. He had thrown many 


392 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


valued possessious to the wolves, and believed firmly, 
because he did not hear them, that the wolves were left 
far behind. He could hold on tiU help came, help must 
come ; if those who were his creditors would only keep 
quiet a little longer, quiet as they had done for so many 
years, with the exception of that distressing outburst 
in the autumn and winter and spring, all would be 
well ; all was well with him during seven glorious 
weeks when Ash water put on its fairest dress, and tlie 
valley of the Thames looked its sweetest, and in the 
“ enamelled meadows ” so rich, so green, cows chewed 
the cud lazily, and boats with youth at the prow and 
pleasure at the helm glided over the smooth surface of 
the river, and songs and laughter floated out into the 
darkness through the open casements of brilliantly 
lighted rooms, startling lonely pedestrians as they 
plodded solitary home by night. > 

All was very calm, indeed, no threatening of a storm 
anywhere, no closeness in the air, no dark clouds 
brooding on the horizon, no lurking lightning, no mut- 
terings of distant thunder ; the worst was past, it was ; 
going to be fine weather forever. 

The summer had been glorious and most enjoyable. ' 
Even Mrs. Desborne confessed that under certain con- 
ditions Ashwater might be considered a pleasant resi- | 
dence. ' 

Nowhere are there such confiding husbandmen as ^ 
those who try to reap golden grain in the Thames Valley. 
Truly, they are a marvellous people. The credit they \ 
will give, the trouble they will take, their patience, j 
their courtesy, their submission to the will of Heaven j 
as expounded to them by persons who rent furnished , 
houses, and keep many servants, and are slow in receiv- 
ing remittances, and slower still in settling their own 
accounts, must be seen to be appreciated. 

Only one boon they ask of the stranger within their 
gates — plenty of orders. Not theirs the mean and ex- 
ploded creed, that it is better to cry over your goods 
than after them. “ Better anything than crying over 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


393 


them,^ they exclaim with a generous enthusiasm which 
does not lead so often to the bankruptcy court as might 
be expected. Experience has taught that if fish, flesh, 
and fowl, wine, groceries, bread, and dairy produce are 
commanded to be sent home, someone must as a rule 
pay for them some time. 

At the first blush this seems an unlikely proposition, 
but results have justified such faith. Keady money is 
a pretty notion in theory, but it is one which has been 
found not to work well in practice, and when once a 
system is put on its trial and found wanting, common 
sense endeavors to substitute another likely to prove 
more successful. 

Till that golden summer, Mrs. Desborne had never 
patronized the Thames Valley fully and freely. House- 
hold necessaries and luxuries, more especially the lat- 
ter, ordered in town, were sent down by train, and con- 
sequently the neighborhood did not think the Ash- 
water custom worth having. 

Now, as in a twinkling, all that was changed. From 
the house full of company, no tradesman came away 
empty of commands for goods to be delivered at once. 
There was nothing Ashwater did not require and re- 
ceive from local shop-keepers. What they had not in 
stock, they procured. No one in all those parts pressed 
for money ; Mr. Desborne did not see the bills, did 
not know, possibly, of their existence. To a weary 
time of struggle, a false peace succeeded. July was 
quite free from anxiety. Mr. Desborne found leisure 
to run down into Hampshire and inspect the proj)e]’- 
ty which he had recommended Aileen to buy. Mr. 
Thomas Desborne also went to view and approve the 
purchase, “ though why you wish to buy a place so far 
from London, I cannot imagine,” he said to the girl, 
who only smiled and gave no reason for her strange 
desire. 

She had always been reticent about her Battersea 
experience, and now she never referred to it. As for 
Mr. Parkyn, she might have only known him in some 


394 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


previous state of existence, such guarded silence did 
she preserve concerning Major Wilton’s esteemed 
friend. When the days for which they had been bid- 
den to Ashwater expired, she went back to York Ter- 
race, and no entreaty could induce her to accompany 
Miss Simpson when that lady once more sought the 
shades of Teddington. 

“No,” she said, “I do not want to go among all 
those people, but it will make me unhappy if you re- 
fuse jVirs. Desborne’s invitation. I shall not be lonely 
at all.” 

Miss Simpson, though loyal, loved society and knew 
that it w^as good policy to keep up and extend her con- 
nection ; therefore, as Mrs. Desborne had done eveiy- 
thing courtesy required in asking Aileen to the house, 
she yielded after a faint show of resistance, and ran 
down often to Ashwater, sometimes only for a few 
hours, sometimes for a couple of days. 

In her heart she liked the daughter of the people, 
Timothy Fermoy’s only child, better than any pupil 
she ever had, but facts are sworn foes to sentiment, 
and the poor lady had long felt her tenure of office was 
very insecure. She could not teach the girl much 
more ; indeed, she knew she had scarcely taught her 
anything. To Mr. Desborne and Miss Wilton at- 
tached the glory and honor of having inducted Miss 
Fermoy into the mysteries of English history, and the 
way in which to play accompaniment by ear. This 
was about all Aileen had learned, as far as what Miss 
Simpson considered an “ elegant education ” was con- 
cerned, and someone would be sure ere long to tell 
her she might spend money more advantageously than 
in paying an instructress who had not even discovered 
she had a nice voice and a very pretty musical taste. 

Aileen was marvellously improved in appearance and 
in manner, it is true, but Miss Simpson could not lay 
the flattering unction to her soul that changes in these 
respects were due to her own superior example. The 
Desbornes had done far more for her in many respects 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


395 


than she, Miss Simpson. Mr. Thomas Desborne in 
especial had proved guide, philosopher, and friend, 
gently correcting her errors of speech and kindly 
leading along that path of deportment he wished her 
to follow. 

“ Were the girl his daughter,” thought Miss Simp- 
son, “he could not be more careful for and tender to- 
ward her.” Which was very true ; so true that the 
lady became sadly convinced her position was too good 
to be considered safe for any length of time. 

Mrs. Surville expressed this opinion openly, influ- 
enced, perhaps, by what she called Aileen’s “con- 
temptuous ” indifference to the advances of persons 
willing to give her a position. 

“ Of course she would have to pay for it,” said the 
astute lady, “ but nothing in this world is to be had 
without payment in one shape or other.” 

Miss Wilton took a cruel pleasure in declaring that 
Aileen would soon jib at so tight a curb and break 
over Miss Simpson’s traces. Major Wilton observed 
that without a settled income derived from safe invest- 
ments it was hard to tell where you were ; here to-day, 
by Jove, and some place very far off to-morrow. Mrs. 
Desborne, when appealed to by visitors, declined to 
imagine what the result of Mr. Desborne’s singular 
arrangement might be. So far it had worked better 
than anyone could have supposed ; the girl was ami- 
able and nice, remembering the rank she came from, 
wonderfully nice and thoughtful ; but those sort of 
people were uncertain, one never knew, there was no 
dependence to be placed on that class. Miss Fermoy 
had borne her change of fortune very well indeed, 
“ but she is odd ” 

“ Gad, I should think so,” interrupted Captain Har- 
lingford, to whom Aileen had turned a very cold 
shoulder. 

“Decidedly odd, likes to be alone. I should not 
wonder if she went a little melancholy— you know.” 

From all of which utterances containing, she knew, a 


396 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


certain amount of truth, Miss Simpson felt it would be 
better for her not to sever her connection with the 
Haiiing fords. They were in the way of hearing of 
“ things,” and when one’s dividends amount to nothing 
a year, paid with great regularity, it is unwise to let 
even the ghost of a chance slip past. 

Miss Simpson did not now fear leaving Aileen to her 
own devices. In the first place she knew quite certain 
ly the girl could never be moulded into the shape of an 
orthodox young lady of good position and the regula- 
tion pattern ; in the next she was convinced her pupil 
would never bring disgrace upon her or anyone else, 
though she might commit many solecisms and pur- 
sue her way without much reference to strict conven- 
tionality. Time had taught her to trust Aileen, to 
depend absolutely on her truth, her promise, and her 
sense. 

If she said, ‘‘ I will do this,” she did it. If she gave 
an assurance “ I will not do that,” Miss Simpson knew 
it would not be done ; therefore, when the girl offered 
to take good care of everything during her absence. 
Miss Simpson left the house in her charge without 
fear. She was aware there would be no “ high jinks” 
in drawing-room or kitchen, no festive gatherings, 
no gay outings, no “sound of revelry by night,” 
or day either, nothing but what was utterly respect- 
able and eminently proper. 

If indeed more of the manner and thought which send 
such a charm to the action of the Upper Ten could 
have been added to Aileen’s proceedings, what further 
grace could be desired ? 

“ I never saw such a girl as you are,” said Miss 'Wil- 
ton, on one of the many occasions when she ran up to 
town to spend a few hours with Aileen. “I came to- 
day just because I knew Humphrey Grimsby was enter- 
taining the nobility and gentry at Ashwater, and 
thought we might have some fun together ; but there 
isn’t a bit of spree in you. When the cat is away, Ai- 
leen Fermoy won’t play. She might be a hundred. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


397 


and not a pretty young girl. Come out this moment, 
I have something to tell you.” 

“ Tell it to me here, then.’* 

“Too good to speak about indoors, but there, if you 
won’t come for a walk or a drive, I know it is waste of 
time trying to persuade you. What do you suppose 
my news is ? ” 

“ I can’t suppose. I have no wish to suppose.” 

“ You disagreeable thing. What should you say if 
I told you a certain mutual friend was very, very fond 
of me ? ” 

There came a little flush into Aileen’s face, but she 
answered quietly enough : 

“ Mr. Vernham, I knew that long ago.” 

“ Did he take you into confidence ? ” 

“No, but I knew.” 

“How very clever I have you no congratulations to 
offer?” 

Aileen opened her arms and folded the girl in them. 
“ From my heart I hope you will both be happy,” 
she said, “ but oh ! Carrie, are you sure you love him 
enough ? ” 

“ Do you mean am I gone on him ? No, my dear, I 
think not. Carrie Wilton is scarcely the girl to gush 
about a man, let him be what he please. All the same, 
I like Philip better than anybody who had ever wanted 
to marry me, and I missed him when the Dad put a drag 
on his coming and said we were not to be engaged, and 
all that rot.” 

“ Did Major Wilton say that ? ” 

“Indeed he did, and meant it too, and made me so 
angry I’d have gone off with Philip, if he had asked 
me ; but no, my gentleman acquiesced and I made sure 
he was coming here to warm up the old broth again.” 

“ There was never anything between us, never ; it 
w’as impossible there could have been,” protested Ai- 
leen, in deep distress. 

“ Well, we need not go over all that again, for he 
didn’t come to you and no soup was warmed up except 


•398 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


ours. Everything is right now, you dear old thing, we 
are engaged stupidly and conventionally ; and who do 
you think we have to thank for it all ? ” 

“ I can’t think.” 

A great friend of yours, a friend who has known a 
certain young lady for 3'ears and years, and has the 
higher opinion' of her, a friend who modestly wants 
to keep in the background and whose name is not to 
be mentioned, unless it may be to you ; who has told 
the governor what a clever fellow Vernham is, cer- 
tain to get on, highly esteemed by Messrs. Bricer, who 
are only waiting old Bricer’s death or retirement to 
give Phil a partnership, and — kiss me, Aileen, and wish 
me joy. I never was so happy before, I never expected 
to be so happy.’* 

Aileen kissed the sweet face over and over again, 
but as she drew her lips away she shivered as though 
she had been pressing those of her own dead love. It 
had been a living love once, it had taken up its home in 
her warm, true heart, and now she must bury the pale, 
fond thing and plant rue and rosemary, and other frag- 
rant plants of memory upon the grave which held all 
that was left of her foolish affection. 

‘‘And who is the friend, Carrie, that set matters to 
rights,” she asked, after a pause. 

“ Why, Mr. Parkyn ; who else could it be ? He has 
been so nice and t^ks about you in the dearest w^ay. 
I have my suspicions, grave suspicions, but you are such 
a shy puss one can never tell. He asked when you 
would be at Ashwater, and went quite off his feed 
when I said, ‘Never, very likely.’ I had to eat my 
words before I could get him out of his corner again. ” 

Aileen did not say a syllable, but her heart was filled 
with a vague disquietude. Why should Mr. Parkyn try 
to advance Philip’s suit ? Yet why, on the contrary, 
should he not ? 

“ Mrs. Desborne’s last garden party is to come off 
on Saturday week,” said Miss Wilton, after a pause. 

“ So I hear.** 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


399 


“And you won’t come to it ? ” 

“ No, I would rather not.” 

“ Philip has accepted.” 

“ I hope you may both have a pleasant time, ” 

“ Mr. Desborne will be in Scotland.” 

“Miss Simpson thinks he needs a change badly.” 

“ And you won’t be tempted? ” 

“No.” 

“ Then do ring for luncheon. I am as hungry as a 
hunter ! You are not very hospitable, after my coming 
up to spend the day, too ! ” 

Time passed on, and the Saturday when Mrs. Des- 
borne was to give her last and largest garden party 
was close at hand. 

“ Won’t you change your mind, my dear ?” asked 
Miss Simpson ; “it will be a very nice affair.” 

“I would rather not go,” answered Aileen, for the 
twentieth time. 

“I feel so unhappy about leaving you,” said Miss 
Simpson, and I scarcely know how to manage, for Mrs. 
Desborne wants both the servants from here to help, 
and if you remain they cannot be spared. Do come, 
and Mrs. Castle could take care of the house over Sun- 
day. That would enable everything to be arranged 
satisfactorily.” 

“ And why cannot you send for Mrs. Castle and ar- 
range everything satisfactorily, even though I remain 
here ? She can get all I require, and if she brings her 
child, she won’t feel lonely or be wanting to go out.” 

“But it would be terribly dull for you on Sunday.” 

“ Not at all, Mr. Thomas Desborne said if I liked he 
would come up in the afternoon and take me to the 
service at the Abbey and round to Westminster after- 
ward. I should enjoy that much more than the Ash- 
water garden party.” 

“ Well, if you really ” 

“ Yes, I would really, so go whenever you like.” ^ 

It was late on Saturday afternoon, when the festivities 
were in full progress at Ashwater, that Mrs. Castle, a 


400 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


tidy-looking, careworn -young widow who had been 
“ servant in a good family,” brought Aileen a card and 
said “the gentleman ” would not detain her more than 
a few minutes. 

“ Mr. Parkyn ! ” murmured Aileen, surprised, and 
went into the dining-room where the visitor awaited 
her. 

“I hoped I might have had the pleasure of seeing 
you at Mrs. Desborne’s party to-day,” he said, “ but as 
I heard you were not likely to be present, I thought I 
would venture to call on you.” 

Aileen did not say she was glad or sorry, that he 
was welcome or the reverse, she only uttered the first 
word which came to her lips, “ certainly,” and waited. 

“It would be affectation forme, in speaking to 5’ou, 
to ignore our former acquaintance,” he proceeded. “ Of 
course I knew you in the old Battersea days, and re- 
spected you as much as I admired you.” 

He had always been respectful, and never intended 
any admiration he may have felt, consequently Aileen 
did not negative his statement. She only waited as 
before. 

“I admired your industry, your courage, and your 
patience,” he continued, ignoring the fact that the girl 
had beauty enough to win adm^-ation for other than 
her mental and moral qualities ; “ and I am not sur- 
prised to find that change of fortune has wrought no 
change in you, that you are still the same simple, gen- 
erous, noble creature you were when working so hard 
to support your family.” 

“ I only did my duty,” she murmured. 

“ Who but yourself would have considered that her 
duty, I wonder ? ” he said. “ But let that pass. I did 
not come here to talk about you or myself, only about 
a person who helped you when you needed help^ — Mr. 
Vernham.” 

“He did help me as no one else ever did.” 

“And you would wish to make him very happy 
now ? ” 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


401 


“Yes, indeed, if lie would let me.” 

“ You know, of course, he is engaged to Miss Wilton. 
She told you, I believe, and mentioned I had been 
instrumental in reconciling her father to the arrange- 
ment? ” 

“ Miss Wilton said you had been very kind.” 

“ May I say that I busied myself in the matter prin- 
cipally because it seemed to me you would be pleased 
to have matters put straight. Miss Wilton is not my 
ideal of perfection, but Mr. Vernham is differently 
minded, and she will make him a very good, loving 
wife, I am sure.” 

“ She is very fond of him,” remarked Aileen, linger- 
ing on the words. 

“ Very, and I have no doubt he will get on eventually 
and make money, and so forth ; but meantime, ah ! in 
the meantime their youth is passing ; youth does not 
last long, and its brightness and its promise can never 
come back again. Now, it occurred to me the other day 
that you might help these lovers, that you would 
like to help them. I know you would, I am convinced 
you would.” 

“ How can I help them ? Mr. Vernham is not the 
man to take money from me.” 

“He would not be the man you have liked all your 
life, if he were willing to accept money from anyone, 
but suppose now you settled a little income on Miss 
Wilton, you would never miss it ; apparently you dower 
the bride, but you actually give the amount to Mr. 
Vernham — you grasp what I mean.” 

“That would not do,” answered the girl, “he would 
never marry a rich woman.” 

“ She need not be rich, only possess a small compe- 
tence to keep the wolf off* you know. Major Wilton 
might tell him to marry on his present salary and prom- 
ise to allow his daughter some trifle toward house- 
keeping. There is no necessity for Mr. Vernham to be 
taken into confidence. We might practise a pious 
deception — you won’t think well of it, I see. At any 


402 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


rate, forgive me. My intentions were good, I did not 
mean to give offence.” 

“ You have not offended me, I feel grateful to you 
for speaking.” 

“You relieve me immensely. Any other person 
might consider my interference officious. I won’t de- 
tain you longer now, only let me say one word more. 
If ever you think I can be of the slightest service in 
this or anything else, let me know and I will help you 
to the best of my ability. God bless you. Good-by, 
you have a great heart and a grand nature. Good-by 
again*,” and he went. 

Aileen remained where he left her, gazing with un- 
seeing eyes into the Park. 

The afternoon waned. Mrs. Castle said tea was in the 
library, but the girl took no notice ; hour after hour 
she sat thinking, the twilight came and found her still 
pondering over the problem Mr. Parkyn had put be- 
fore her. At last, when the trees in the park were 
scarce distinguishable, when the street lamps were 
lighted and night was on hand, she roused herself and 
went into the next room with a look on her face which 
told she had answered the question of how Philip Vern- 
ham might be helped to her satisfaction. 


CHAPTEB XXIX. 


MAN PROPOSES. 

“ Man proposes,” and, for that matter, woman too. 
Ere Aileen, late at night, sought her couch, she had 
proposed many things which she meant to carry into 
execution on the Sunday, when Mr. Desborne intended 
to conduct her round and about Westminster. She 
felt quite light-hearted as she went upstairs, a load 
was lifted from her mind, she saw her way quite plain- 
ly. She would not settle any money on Miss Wilton, 
but she would entreat Mr. Thomas Desborne to find 
some way by which she might make Philip Vernham 
rich without anyone knowing her share in the work. 

The peace which perfect unselfishness insures was 
here, the quiet that after some good act of utter renun- 
ciation succeeds the grief and unrest, fell upon her 
soul, as dew with sweet refreshment drops on parched 
grass. 

If her ideal was not the one woman for her friend, 
if he could only be happy with a girl she liked, nay, 
loved very much, but whom she could not believe to 
be the right wife for him, she would try to enable him 
to marry that girl. 

No one can make life for another ; no one can see 
with another’s eyes or hear sweet tones in a voice which 
sounds like softest music to different ears. People must 
seek happiness in their own way, but she might help 
Philip to be happy. 

What though she had given her heart unsought, she 
did not mean to be miserable because of that unwilling 
error. No one knew, no one should ever know ; the 
shame need not weigh her down, nay, rather, she might 


404 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


always remember, even when old and lonely, she had 
loved worthily and conquered her love. 

Because of it, the fair plains of her life did not lie 
desolate as though a wind from the desert had swept 
over and blasted them ; on the contrary, they were 
green with kindly thought and generous purpose, flow- 
ers that would make many hearts glad were springing 
there to blossom in good season. 

The widow and the orphan should be her constant 
care ; although she could never have husband nor 
child, she would strive not merely to weep with those 
who wept, but, more difficult by far, to rejoice with 
those who rejoiced. She would not mope and be sor- 
fowful, nay, rather, she would walk on her appointed 
way, striving to make the world a little better and 
brighter as she trod. She had not done much as yet, 
she thought, but she would try to do more. God had 
given her gTeat wealth which it behoved her to use as 
a servant, who must one day give an account of 
how she had employed the talents entrusted to her 
care. 

She was so full of plans and purposes that, although 
very happy, she could not fall asleep immediately she 
lay down ; the very stillness spoke to her, the silence 
was full of voices ; but at length slumber stole softly 
down, closed with velvet touch her weary eyelids, laid 
a soothing hand on her tired brain, and brought 
sweetest dreams to chase away all sad thoughts that 
might disturb her rest. 

The house was utterly quiet, not a sound from the 
never-ceasing hum of London penetrated into that 
peaceful house ; in her own room Aileen lay bound in 
the most perfect repose ; upstairs Mrs. Castle and her 
child were wrapped in deep sleep ; the spirit of night 
brooded over a place in which there was no sickness 
or sorrow or sin to keep anyone awake ; the clock in 
the hall ticked its solemn warnings to deaf ears, the 
minutes sped by, hours passed ; and then through that 
quiet dwelling the front door-bell pealed a jarring 


THE HEAD OE THE FIRM. 


405 


Bummons, waking from cellar to attic every hitherto 
unsuspected echo it contained. 

No one heard the sound, care was not sitting by any 
pillow to arouse consciousness at the lightest breath ; 
then the bell rang again, a louder, longer alarm. 

This time Aileen awoke, wherever she may have 
been wandering, this second peal followed her through 
the mazes of dreamland. Faintly she heard, as from 
afar off, the clamorous reverberation, and between 
sleeping and waking lifted her head unconsciously, 
wondering what it might mean. Before she could 
settle to rest again, the bell was seized as if by some 
demon, who rang, not once or twice, but such a series 
of wild summonses that the girl sprang up, thrust her 
feet into slippers, ]3ut on her dressing wrapper, and 
ran downstairs in the dark, her eyes still heavy with 
sleep and her heart fluttering, as the bell continued 
its imperative jangle. 

She shot back the bolts, turned the key in the lock, 
and opened the door as far as a heavy chain would 
permit. 

“ What is the matter? ” she asked, and a man stand- 
ing on the step outside replied, “ Letter, please, and 
I’m to take back answer.” 

“We thought you was all dead,” supplemented a 
policeman, who had evidently been assisting, speaking 
from the pavement. 

“ No, we were asleep,” returned Aileen, simpl 3 \ It 
did not strike her there was anything in the words to 
cause merriment, but as she closed the door she heard 
the men laughing loudly. They knew what a fantasia 
they had been performing on the bell, and her state- 
ment struck them as humorous. It was a sign of 
grace that anything could amuse them under such 
circumstances. 

Not a streak of dawn had appeared in the sky, only 
that faint gray hung over London which precedes the 
coming of morning by perhaps an hour. It was that 
cold, raw hour watchers by the sick dread, and with 


406 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


reason, and Aileen shivered as she struck a light and 
looked at the paper she held. 

It was an unsealed missive, directed by someone to 
whom writing was a strange art, to Miss Simsen, care 
Mr. Dissbon, Yorke Terriss. It was not enclosed in 
an envelope, the note being merely a page torn from 
some old account-book and folded roughly so as to 
hide a few hurriedly scrawled lines. 

Aileen turned the curious document over, and see- 
ing “ or Miss Furmoi ” on the flap, opened it without 
ceremony and read : 

Madam, Miss Simsen : — “ I am sorry to sai as Mr. 
Dissbon is verry bad. He was took about twelf. 
Please come soon. The docktor wish Mr. Edwharde 
sent for, 

“Yours trewly, 

“Mbs. Kiddee.” 

The girl stood for a moment paralyzed. She was 
still scarcely awake, and the whole thing seemed to 
her an impossible, yet most horrible, nightmare. 

She never could tell afterward how she got up- 
stairs, dressed herself, wakened Mrs. Castle, put on 
hat and jacket — her hands trembling all the while with 
cold and fright — ran down into the hall, opened the 
door once again and passed out into York Terrace, 
where the cabman* was walking up and down, banging 
his arms across his chest with an energy which would 
not have disgraced December. 

At sight of Aileen he abandoned his athletic exer- 
cises, slammed the cab door, whipped the nose-bag off 
his horse, mounted the box, wrapped a i-ug round his 
own person as carefully as though it had been winter, 
and drove off by those short cuts cabmen patronize. 

He cut across the main thoroughfares lying to the 
north of New Oxford Street and Holborn, never strik- 
ing those great arteries, however, but bearing by vari- 
ous devious ways ever and ever eastward, emerging at 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


407 


last from Bull-and-Montli Street, close to St. .Martin’s- 
le-Grrand. Nothing in the whole of her previous life, 
not even the news of her accession to fortune, had 
seemed so unreal to Aileen as that drive through the 
almost silent metropolis, black night struggling against 
a feeble gray dawn, the gas-lamps flickering as ever 
and anon a keen blast swept by, every object looking 
strange and unfamiliar— the quiet streets, the sleeping 
houses, the closed shops, with a dreadful fear keejping 
her close company as the cab rattled along to an end 
where that grim spectre which appals the strongest 
was keeping a sleepless vigil. 

JVIrs. Kidder stood on the step waiting when Aileen, 
who had alighted in Queen Street, hurried up Cloak 
Lane. 

“ How is he ? ” she asked. “ He is not ? ” 

“No, not dead,” said the woman, sobbing bitterly, 
“ but he’ll never be better. Oh ! my poor master, my 
poor dear master ! ” 

Aileen drew her inside the hall and shut the door. 

“ Miss Simpson is at Teddington, so I came,” she ex- 
plained. 

“ His nephew ought to be sent for at once,” the doctor 
said. “I would have done that if I had known the 
address.” 

“I know the address, but we could not get a tele- 
gram ofi’ at this hour.” 

“Oh ! yes, we could, miss, from the chief office.” 

“ Where is that ? ” 

“ I am not rightly sure, it used to be in Founder’s 
Court, but any policeman could tell ” 

“I will find out,” and the girl was turning to go 
when she stopped to ask, “Is there no hope?” 

“ No, none, and it will just kill Mr. Edward. I know 
it will.” 

“ Who is with him ? ” 

“No one — now, he needs nothing, nobody can do 
anything. I have been in his room ever since he was 
taken, except when I ” 


408 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ Don’t try to tell me. Go upstairs, and I will take 
the key, then you need not come down again. I won’t 
be long.” 

“ Don’t, miss, for it’s awful and solemn to be in that 
room all alone.” 

“ But think of what it is for him to be all alone,” said 
the girl softly, depths of feeling before unknown stir- 
ring within her soul. “ Shall I — would you like me to 
— I mean, will you let me stay beside him while you go 
to the telegraph office — if you — feel — afraid ” 

“ Bless you, no, I’m not afraid of him, poor gentle- 
man. He was always good and kind to me, only it is 
lonely like ” 

Aileen laid her hand on the woman’s, she felt in a 
deadly fright herself, in such a fright she was thankful 
at the prospect of getting out of the place even for a 
few minutes. 

“I know what it is,” she said. “I will be as quick 
as I can,” and she went out into the morning twilight, 
walking swiftly through the streets he and she, that 
true friend and herself, had so often trodden together. 

She cried all the way, there was no one to see her 
tears or hear her stifled sobs. She did not meet a 
creature till she reached Princess Street, when she saw 
a policeman and told him what she wanted. 

When the message was given in, she went back to 
Cloak Lane running all the way, arriving thus before 
the tidings had flashed along the wires farther than 
Edinburgh. She had not told the worst, she meant to 
supplement that message with another, half an hour 
later. As it happened, both arrived at the same time, 
but it made little difierence. When and in what way 
can a man ever be prepared for such a story ? 

Though we know the inevitable end must come, it 
always comes with a shock. On the Head of the Firm 
the news that his uncle was dying fell wuth more than a 
shock. 

Morning was stealing into Mr. Thomas Desborne’s 
sitting-room, when Aileen, after creeping stealthily up 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


409 


the staircase, entered that apartment Avliere she had 
spent so many happy hours. It seemed to her, 
while she looked around, as though she never before 
realized what a kind friend the dyiug mau proved from 
the first day they met, as though she could never be 
sorry enough not to have thought more of, and done 
more for, him. 

And now she could do nothing save watch beside him. 
There were the books he had so often taken down, but 
which he would take down no more ; there were the 
engravings he set such store by, the remembered arm- 
chair now vacant, the table at which he had written, at 
which he must have been writing but a few hours be- 
fore, for a pen lay across a sheet of paper just as it had 
fallen from his fingers, and a great blot of ink showed 
as the final stop to his last unfinished letter. 

Aileen looked at these things with a grief too deep 
for tears, too sacred for speech. 

Beside the blotting-paper some wills were lying open 
for anyone to read who listed. From the lock a bunch 
of keys was hanging. With a great wave, comprehen- 
sion of the teiTible helplessness which attaches to the 
dead and dying was borne to Aileen ’s grieved heart, 
and with the true instinct of sympathy she laid all the 
papers together and, placing them within the drawer, 
turned the key and dropped the bunch into her 
pocket, 

“Such things ought not to be lying about,” she ex- 
plained to Mrs. Kidder afterward. “Who knows what 
may be in those letters ? ” 

“ They came by the last post,” said the housekeeper. 
“My master was out and I laid them on his blotting- 
pad, as was my habit. He did not return till late, and 
it might have been an hour afterward that, hearing a 
noise, I ran down-stairs and found him lying on the 
hearth-rug, as if he had dropped from his chair. He 
was writing when he was took, and not a soul but me 
in the house.” 

“ What time will the doctor come again ? ” ^ 


410 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


‘‘ About eight, miss, but he said he could do uothiug 
more/’ 

“ May I not sit with — with Mr. Desborne while you 
try to get some sleep? ” 

“I feel as if I’d never sleep again.” 

“Still, lie down on the sofa here if you would rather 
not go up-stairs. I will call you, should anything be 
wanted.” 

“ No, I couldn’t rest, miss, but if you will stay with 
my master I’ll make the kettle boil and get a cup of 
tea ready — and — oughtn’t we to send to Ashwater ? ” 

“I was thinking of that. Perhaps we can find a 
messenger to go there presently.” 

“Miss Simpson will be in a rare taking. She 
thought there was not his equal.” 

“She loved to come here as much as I did,” faltered 
Aileen, almost choked with the memories that crowded 
upon her. 

“Ay, she’d have liked nothing better than to come and 
stay here altogether,” answered Mrs. Kiddel', harking 
back to the original theme. “ Well, I’ve known what was 
in her mind this man 3'^ a .year, and only I thought it no 
business of mine, I could have told her there was the 
picture of a lady hanging in the next room who had 
been more to him than any other ever would be. It was 
because she liked his brother better, I’ve heard, that 
sent him to live alone and made him the dear gentle- 
man he was ; oh ! I can’t bear to think he’s lying in 
there never to stir about the house again, or to come 
up the stairs so nimble, and call out my name and — ^ — ” 

Aileen could not bid the woman cease crying, for her 
own sobs were choking her. 

“ We shall disturb Mr. Desborne,” she managed at 
last to gasp. 

“I wish we were able to do that,” was the almost 
inarticulate answer, which seemed to Aileen so ridicu- 
lousty inconsequent she could only point to the half- 
open bedroom door and ask, 

“ May I go in, or would it wake him ? ” whereupon 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


411 


Mrs. Kidder gave way to a fresh burst of grief and 
said, “No,” in a manner which might have induced 
Aileen to believe the sick man was dead, had not the 
sound of heavy breathing negatived such an idea. 

Very quietly she crossed the threshold and stood for a 
moment looking at her friend. He had been placed in 
bed and was lying with his face turned toward her, fast 
asleep, as she supposed. He did not seem much 
changed, his cheeks pale but in no way drawn as 
though in pain. Altogether the girl felt reassured, the 
room looked so cheerful, the sleep was so profound, his 
appearance was so much what it had always been, 
Aileen took heart again. When the doctor came he 
would see his patient was better, meanwhile she ought 
to keep very still. There should be no more talking or 
crying. 

Noiselessly she removed her hat and jacket, seated 
herself at a httle distance from the bed, and opening 
a bible, which lay on a chest of drawers close at band, 
tried to read. But she could not concentrate her at- 
tention on the text. If she caught one word a dozen 
raced past her eyes without conveying any meaning. 
Her mind wandered to Mr. Desborne, and to tlie por- 
trait hanging above the mantle-piece of a lovely girl in 
the prime of early womanhood. No need to wonder 
who she was, to marvel where Mr. Edward Desbome 
got his kindly eyes and his pleasant smile. 

There they were in that charming face which seemed 
watching with grave sweetness the man who had re- 
mained single for her dear sake, and spent the best 
years of his life working for her son. 

Aileen looked at the glory of golden hair, at the ex- 
quisite complexion, at the half laughing, half sad 
expression, till her eyes swam with tears as she con- 
sidered the faithful heart which had never wavered in 
its affection but remained unselfishly true to . the love 
of his youth. 

Then she thought with a deep compassion of Miss 
Simpson, and remembering it had been in her mind 


412 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


to send for that lady, she stole very quietly into the 
next room and wrote a note, which she was just put- 
ting in an envelope when Mrs. Kidder entered, bring- 
ing a cup of tea which Aileen swallowed before re- 
turning to Mr. Desborne’s beside. 

“ Lie down and get some sleep,” she whispered to 
the housekeeper, who, though sure she could “never 
sleep again,” when she sat down before the fire in 
her own kitchen fell into a profound slumber, which 
even the doctor’s arrival failed to disturb. 

Aileen let him in, and when he asked about Mr. 
Desborne, said, “He has not stirred, he sleeps very 
soundly.” 

“I wish he were sleeping less soundly,” was the 
answer, “ but I can do no more.” 

“Should you — like — to have another doctor ? ” 
asked Aileen, misunderstanding his meaning. 

“ Would you,” he returned. 

“ I am sure his nephew would wish everything done,” 
she hesitated. 

“ Then I will bring a physician.” 

“ Thank you, and would you please get a messen- 
ger to take this note to Teddington ? ” 

“ Has Mr. Desborne not been sent for ? ” 

“ I telegraphed to him long ago.” 

“ Where is he ? ” 

“ In Scotland.” 

The doctor, a man of few words, made no comment. 
He took the note and went away and Aileen resumed 
her watch. 

The silence was profound and broken only by Mr. 
Desborne’s labored breathing. 

“ He sleeps very, very soundly,” thought the girl 
again, and she wondered what the doctor had meant 
by his answer to that observation. The quiet soothed 
her, the loud, monotonous respiration caused her no 
alarm; possibly he would sink into a more natural 
slumber after awhile. It was too early for the clang 
of church bells, no sound of train or cab reached 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


413 


that quiet room. Aileen’s own senses seemed to get 
dull, she was conscious of falling into little dozes and 
waking with a start. She did not wish to be a negli- 
gent nurse, so crossed the room and bathed her face with 
cold water, then she took a little turn and looked out of 
the front windows and came back refreshed. 

As she stood for a moment by the bedside looking 
at Mr. Desborne, he moved and seemed trying to raise 
his head. 

Aileen slipped her hand under the pillow and lifted 
him up a little. Then he was seized with a terrible fit 
of shivering, during the continuance of which the girl 
felt her whole body shake with his violent trembling. 
She did not know what to do, she had no experience to 
guide her, she could not withdraw her arm, she was 
afraid to call out. She felt her strength failing, just 
wlien Mr. Desborne gave a deep sigh and his head 
sank back with the movement as of one seeking 
repose. 

Aileen let the pillow sink gently and drew the bed- 
clothes close up under his chin. She saw his eyes were 
open, they had not been so before, except when the 
doctor pulled up one lid and looked earnestly at the 
pupil. 

She smoothed the counterpane and, walking on tip- 
toe to the window, lowered the blind so that no glare 
of light might disturb her patient. 

At that instant she heard a conveyance stop, and ran 
down- stairs so quickly that the doctor had not time to 
ring the bell. 

“ How is he now ? ” was his inquiry. 

“He is awake, I think, but very quiet. Will you 
come up and see him ? ’■ and she led the way while the 
two doctors followed silently. 

They all passed into the room, Mr. Desborne was 
lying as she had left him. 

The physician looked at the rigid figure, placed his 
hand on the forehead, felt for the wrist and put his 
fingers on it. 


414 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ My poor girl, you ought to have some one with 
you,” he exclaimed, “your father is dead.” 

“ Mr. Desborne was not this young lady’s father, 
explained the other doctor in a low, hushed tone, and 
he closed the sightless eyes and laid the sheet reverent- 
ly over the quiet face. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


FAITH. 

“ Death ” was the news which awaited Mr. Edward 
Desbome when, travel-stained and weary, he entered 
the old house in Cloak Lane. 

All night long he had been oscillating between hope 
and fear, and yet the end had come before his journey 
began. 

“ God bless you, Ned. Good-by ! ” were the last 
words his uncle had said when they parted in the office. 
He now passed on his way to that uj^per chamber where 
the kind old man lay. He would never bid him good- 
by nor welcome him back again — never praise nor 
blame, never help nor interfere, never advise nor mis- 
take the position any more ! 

Already needful matters had been attended to, and 
when Mr. Desborne entered the bed-chamber he found 
a coffin there and Miss Simpson keeping watch beside 
it. 

“There was no choice,” she said, apologetically, as 
she sidled from the room, but Mr. Desborne did not 
hear or see her. His eyes only took in that last grim 
piece of furniture man requires, his ears only heard the 
silence with which the feet of Mortality’s King are 
shod. 

That was an awful hour for the Head of the Firm. 
As he stood there in an agony of grief and self-re- 
proach, he would have given all he had, all he ever 
hoped to have, to see his uncle alive and well before 
him, and yet — and yet — ! 


416 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


So feel those who sell themselves for that which prof- 
iteth nothing, who give post-obits, and look forward to 
wearing dead men’s shoes. 

Still Edward Desborne had loved the kindest uncle 
that ever lived, nay, he loved him never better, perhaps, 
than when he stood looking at the w^hite, passionless 
face, at the lips on which Death had set a seal, at the 
crossed hands and the shrouded figure, and the flowers 
laid to wither by two who would “not forget.” 

It is bad enough to covet money for money’s sake, 
but it is quite as hurtful to desire money for what it 
can buy or pay. 

When all is said that can be said, there is not much 
to choose between the miser and the spendthrift. They 
both crave for money, and the craving for money is, 
indeed, “ the root of all evil.” 

While he stood looking on the change death had 
wrought, Mr. Desborne was ignorant of the way in which 
death came, but when, after a long time, he w*ent into 
the front room Aileen told him. 

“ The right-hand drawer was open, so I locked up 
everything I found on the table, here are the keys.” 

That was all. Silently she left him, and after one 
more look at the dear, dead face, she took Miss Simp- 
son’s hand and the two w^omen left the house. They 
had done their work, neither the dead nor the living 
needed them any more, then. 

Meanwhile Mr. Desborne, feeling something, he knew 
not what, in the way of unpleasantness might be associ- 
ated with those papers which were lying before his un- 
cle when Death, coming from out a darksome corner, 
struck life that fatal blow, opened the drawers and 
drew forth the blotting pad Aileen had placed in safety. 
As he did so, two envelopes with enclosures and an un- 
finished letter fell to the ground. Mr. Desborne 
picked all up, looked at the envelopes, changed color, 
sat down again, pulled out the enclosures, and saw 
two heavy bills and two notes, one of which ran as fol- 
lows : 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


417 


“ Sir : Having frequently asked for payment of ac- 
count forwarded herewith and failed to obtain a settle- 
ment, I beg to say that unless a satisfactory answer is re- 
turned ill the course of next week, I shall be compelled 
to place the matter in the hands of my soHcitor. Before 
adopting extreme measures, however, I have decided to 
apply to you, as I feel loth to have a writ served on the 
son of a gentleman I so much respected, as I did your 
brother, the late Mr. Desborne. If you will kindly notice 
the time over which my bill has been running, I do not 
think you can say I have erred on the side of impa- 
tience. 

“ Trusting to hear from you at an early date, 

“ I am, sir, 

“ Your obedient servant, 

“John Mackill.” 

The other communication was to like purpose, but 
perhaps a little more peremptory. 

Mr. Desborne felt heart-sick, and he closed his eyes 
for a moment before facing his uncle's unfinished mes- 
sage. 

“ My dear Edward,” so the letter, which the dead 
man had meant to be a long one, began : “ My heart 
has been broken to-day, and by you. I went this even- 
ing to dine wfith my old friend Darter, at Haverstock 
Hill. There I met Meggiton, who walked to the station 
with me. Before we reached it I learned you had sold 
the little Croydon property (24 cottages) I assisted 
your father to buy for your benefit, a capital property, 
returning over twelve per cent. Meggiton added, he 
heard you were parting with your other leaseholds. 
You may imagine how this shook me, for although I 
have long known you found your income barely suffi- 
cient, it never occurred to me you were trenching on 
capital. Worse, however, was to follow. When I re- 
turned home two letters were awaiting me, enclosing 
bills for an appalling amount. If you have further lia- 
bilities on a similar scale, I see no resources for you but 


418 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


bankruptcy or a private arrangement with your cred- 
itors. 

“Pray return as soon as possible, and let us look mat- 
ters in the face, so that, if possible, a public exposure 
may be avoided, otherwise the firm cannot last so 
long as the lease of these offices, short, as the latter 
is. 

“ It is quite impossible I ” 

At that point there w^as a great blot. The pen had fallen 
forever. What more the writer meant to add w^as gone 
with him into eternity, and for a moment it seemed to 
Edward Besborne that his own feet were treading the 
border line, his eyes straining themselves over the space 
that divided this world from the land whither we are 
journeying. 

He felt as one who runs breathlessly after some van- 
ishing figure that can never be overtaken. Pant and 
struggle as he might, he could not reach the beloved 
and lost and fall at his feet and say : 

“I have sinned against Heaven and before thee.” 
No, rather his was the case of that other who, turning 
too late and finding darkened windows and closed 
doors, exclaimed, in an agony, “I’m a murderer !” 

The unhappy man knew as well he had killed bis 
uncle as though he had plunged a knife into the faith- 
ful heart and seen the blood gush out. 

“ May God forgive me, for I can never forgive my- 
self,” he moaned, covering his face with his hands, while 
a grinning demon rose up with mocking gesture and 
whispered, “ You will never know harass again .! You 
may snap your fingers at the w^oiid. For the first time 
you are really Head of the Firm. You will come in for 
all he left and may do what you please with it.” 

But this demon could not be tolerated. Imperiously, 
Mr. Desborne thrust it back to that lower hell from 
whence it came. His repentance was very sincere, his 
anguish quite true. He did not know how to contain 
himself, how to bear the blow. Death is always hard 
enough to face, but when it brings self-accusation and 


THE HEAD OF THE FIBM. 419 

self-reproach how is the awful presence to be sup- 
ported ? 

This man broke down utterly. He went again into 
the inner chamber and gazed through blinding tears at 
the calm, set face, then he sank on his knees and gave 
way to a passion of unavailing grief, pouring out the 
words of love and sorrow, repentance and gratitude. 

But the dead lay quiet, the time for affection was 
gone by, and money or the lack of it would trouble his 
peace never more. 

The city was greatly edified by the way in which 
Mr. Desborne’s loss touched him. Mrs. Kidder told 
every one she had said from the first how it would 
be. Mr. Knyvitt in his heart thought such regret all 
bosh, but even he did not believe there was any sham 
about the matter, though why a man should be sad, 
puzzled him consumedly. He was. not sad, though he 
went about with a decent gravity. He felt sure Mr. 
Thomas Desborne had remembered him to the tune of 
of a cool “ thou” at any rate. Mr. Packle, who expected 
nothing, maintained an impartial attitude, the new 
clerk was selfishly sorry, while Mr. Tripsdale covered 
himself with glory by contributing a thoughtful trib- 
ute in the form of a magnificent wreath, from “one 
who knew his worth and felt grateful for his kindness.” 
No other employe did this, and Mr. Knyvitt cOuld 
have gnashed his teeth when he heard his old enemy 
had been “one too many for him.” 

It was a great funeral which wound its way from 
Regent’s Park to Highgate Cemetery. From far and 
near friends gathered out of respect to the dead man’s 
memory and the great wealth he must have left to his 
nephew. 

People talked about his wealth as they went home 
and estimated it differently, but all were agreed the 
Head of the Firm had come in for a good thing, and the 
Head of the Firm himself, who had recovered a little 
from the shock, thought so also. 

For the time being there was silence, not ominous, 


420 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 

amongst Mr. Desborne’s creditors. Here was long- 
waited-for come at last. They had always known their 
trust not to be misplaced. There was money which 
must turn in, and now they would have it. 

Days elapsed after the funeral before the Head of 
the Firm could bring himself to unlock the small safe 
containing his uncle’s private papers. As the door 
swung back it seemed to him like opening a grave, 
and he stood still for a moment ere pulling out a drawer 
where he knew Mr. Thomas Desborne, in addition to 
his cheque and pass books, kept a certain japanned 
box, the contents of which he had never seen. 

This he lifted out, placed on tlie table, fitted a key 
to the lock, and threw back the lid. A strange, sweet 
odor floated out into the room, which came from a 
packet bearing a date in the forties. It contained a 
glove, once white, now yellow with years, etc., a few 
dried-up flowers, nothing else save the romance of a 
life, once fresh as the buds she wore, now’ even more 
dead than they. 

Ah ! friends, could we but see the faded flowers hid- 
den away in many a heart we might well be tender to 
one another ! 

Mr. Desborne refolded the paper and laid it rever- 
ently in its place ere he took out a larger package, lab- 
elled “The Last Will of Thomas Desborne.” When 
he broke the seal and undid the envelope a letter met 
his eye. It was addressed to “ My Dear Nephew,” and 
explained, in veiy lucid language, that the writer was 
only able to bequeath a comparatively small amount, 
because he had for years assisted his brother to com- 
plete various purchases which seemed desirable in the 
interests of his son. “Since my brother’s death,” 
continued Mr. Desborne, “ I have drawn scarcely any 
money from the profits of the business, permitting, as 
I have more than once explained, almost the whole of 
my share to be paid into your account. 

“ My expenses were trifling, yours, naturally, were 
large, and I felt very glad that long habits of economy 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


421 


enabled me to add a substantial amount to your in- 
come. I merely mention the fact again, as otherwise 
you might naturally wonder at the comparatively small 
income I am leaving you. My will is of the simplest. 
With the exception of a very few legacies, everything I 
possess goes to you who are most dear to me. 

“I write this while strong and well, because no man 
knows when he may be summoned to depart.” 

Then there followed a few words of fai’ewell^ and — 
the large inheritance had melted away. 

Ten minutes previously it was tangible to Mr. Des- 
borne’s imagination, to his belief its existence was real. 
Now, however, not the mists of early morning, not the 
birds in last year’s nest, not the wreaths of previous 
winter’s snow were less substantial than this goblin 
gold, which, as it turned out now, had been a mere vis- 
ion of the night. 

As a man stunned Edward Desborne sat motionless, ' 
looking on the shipwreck of his expectations, the down- 
fall of his fortunes, like a “dreamer in a dream.” 

Who had deceived him ? No one save the jade Hope, 
and that arch-liai’ Common Report. Over and over his 
uncle had said, I cannot afford this or that. My in- 
come is small, but sufficient, so I will only take so 
much out of my share and the remainder may be use- 
ful to you. The never-ceasing consideration, the un- 
asked-for generosity had never been full}' appreciated, 
since he believed it was out of abundance, not compara- 
tive poverty, he received so much. Because his uncle 
lived in two I’ooms, gave with modest liberality, and 
forebore to take the world into his confidence, that 
world concluded his wealth must be enormous, while 
he, who ought to have known better, followed suit, be- 
lieved all rumors, idle tales, and lived, and spent, and 
threw away his chances as royally as though lord of a 
hundred manors. 

No one but himself to blame ! Truly a noble conso- 
lation, a splendid excuse to offer in lieu of cash to those 
who had trusted to his honor. 


422 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


Many an anxious heart took its sad and tortured way 
home that evening, but it may be doubted whether one 
more utterly crushed than this unfortunate man’s left 
the city. For he had never meant to do wrong — it was 
not out of malice prepense he waded into such waters 
of difficulty. He always told himself he would pay ; 
till that afternoon he believed he could pay, and now, 
utterly hopeless, utterly swamped with debt, he was 
gOiug to Waterloo, fully determined to tell his wife all 
and say, “ My only hope for the future is that you will 
help me to retrench — without your aid I am power- 
less ! ” 

A number of persons were hastening to . one of the 
platforms as he entered the station. A Thames Valley 
train was on the eve of starting, and he followed the 
rest of the passengers and jumped into a smoking com- 
partment, though he knew he could not be left nearer 
Ash water than Strawberry Hill. What did it signify ? 
he should like the walk to Teddington. The whole 
evening was before him. Ten minutes would suffice 
to say what he meant to say. 

But when once Waterloo was left behind his courage 
began to ebb. His wife would not like the confession, 
wouhl think him hardly treated, might even speak as 
if his uncle had done him a wrong. That would be 
very bad, and if she mentioned the actual position to 
any .of her friends, it was difficult to say what injury 
might ensue. 

A man’s credit is as a woman’s character, a breath 
suffices to sully it, and Mr. Desborne’s credit was un- 
happily* not in a state to defy suspicion. 

‘‘If I were bankrupt,” he thought, desperately, “it 
would not matter. She would have to know,, every one 
would know.” And then the reflection rushed over him 
that bankruptcy was a horrible thing, that a man had 
to say why and wherefore, to answer, to the best of his 
ability, where the money had gone, how much had come 
in, how much was paid away^ — a catastrophe too horrible 
to contemplate, ruin at the time, ruin in the time to come. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


423 


He was not one of those men who rise superior to 
that small misfortune of insolvency — who from the 
ashes of failure soar plioenix-like triumphant to suc- 
cess. In fancy he saw the bankruptcy messenger en- 
tering into possession, heard his own impotent answer 
to the official receiver, listened to the measured accents 
of Mr. Registrar Tryford denouncing the debtor's 
unbridled extravagance and-^ 

“ It is a fact. Of my own knowledge, I tell you, he 
netted seventy-six thousand pounds over that last great 
fall in ‘ Terra Dela.' ” 

There were but two gentlemen in the compartment 
besides Mr. Desborne, and it was one of them who 
spoke. 

“ God bless me ! ” said the other. 

“ I asked him how he managed ; we are very inti- 
mate, you know ; there’s not a bit of nonsense or false 
pride about him.” 

“ And how did he manage ? ” 

“I knew it was only a scare,” he said, and I in- 
structed my broker to buy all the Terras he could lay 
hands on. If he had followed my orders implicitly I 
might have made double, but I have no reason to be 
dissatisfied.” 

“ I should think not,” remarked the second tmveller, 
a hungry- looking man with an anxious eye and a starved 
mustache, “but it was a great many eggs to put in 
one basket.” 

■ “His instinct is unerring**' was the reply, “that is 
only one instance out of many. Fortunes are made 
evei-y day in the city, and not by accident. Faith is the 

great thing, faith is what does it.” 

Mr. Desborne heard. If faith were the only thing 
needful, who could supply a larger quantity of that 
article than he ? On the whole, it might be better to 
defer the proposed conversation with his wife. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


POOK AILEEN. 

In common justice it must be said that Mr. Des- 
borne, adding works to Lis faith, did make a gallant 
effort to set his affairs in order. 

He faced his liabilities, so far as he knew, then paid 
some of his creditors in full, some partly in cash, and 
partly in promises, and took measures calculated, he 
hoped, to prevent the recurrence of two such crises as 
had driven him to the verge of distraction. He placed 
his town house in the hands of an agent with, the view 
of letting it furnished, either for the winter or a term, 
inducing his wife to face the prospect of remaining at 
Ashwater by the assurance that whenever she wished, 
they could run up to town and stay at the Mctropole. 

“ The house is a great and useless expense,” he said. 

“ All houses are,” she answered, for indeed nothing 
would have pleased her better than ta reside always at 
a hotel. 

This move necessitated some change in the Aileen 
arrangement, but that difficulty was met by an invita- 
tion to Ashwater, “where we will be very quiet this 
winter,” explained Mrs. Desborne. As for Miss Simp- 
son, all places were alike to her now. She had “ loved 
and lost,” and the solitudes of Teddington and the 
deer - park at Bushy presented congenial tracts of 
desolation for her fancy to roam over the might-have- 
been. 

Mr. Desborne devoted himself to business with a 
whole-hearted persistency which won the approval of 
every client who in those days sought his assistance. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


425 


Even Aileen saw liow much he was changed — more 
grave, more earnest, more lawyer like. 

Into the business of helping Philip Vernham he 
entered so completely that before November came 
that gentleman had been offered a small share in 
Messrs. Bricers’ house, with the assurance that it de- 
pended entirely on himself whether he should not 
eventually secure a larger interest in the firm. 

Money can do a great deal. Old Mr. Bricer, full of 
years, experience, and a determination to take every 
care of his own interests, was going to retire, and 
thirty thousand pounds in ready money proved useful to 
a firm, well aware that Mr. Bricer, senior, meant a large 
amount of capital to go with him when he left the 
Miuories. The whole affair required careful handling, 
but Mr. Desborne proved equal to the situation. It 
was necessary for Mr. Vernliam to remain in ignorance 
that naouey was being paid for him, and it was needfLil 
for Messrs. Bricer to remain bound by that money. 
Many a discussion was held at Mr. William Bjicer’s 
private house, but at length matters were so satis- 
factorily arranged that Philip became “ actuall}’’, actu- 
ally,” as Miss Wilton said, “a partner in that great 
big swagger house,” and Major Wilton thought, if 
things went well, the marriage might come off just 
before Goodwood. 

Mr. Parkyn was absent, abroad for his health, or 
some other reason, and Teddington did not see him 
till every pleasure boat was off the river, and all the 
summer holiday-makers were back in town, working 
hard on the treadmill of society or of business. 

When Major Wilton’s “ capital fellow ” heard the 
news, heju’d how straight his tip had proved, how 
thoroughly correct his card, he smiled modestly and 
congratulated every one concerned. 

“ Generous as usual,” he said to Aileen, the first 
time he found a chance of speaking to her alone. “ I 
wonder if there ever were another woman so generous 
as yon.” 


426 


THE HEAD OF THE ETRM. 


Life could not be considered wildly gay at Asbwater, 
and as Mrs. Desborne found even her indulgent hus- 
band unwilling to take up a permanent residence at 
the Metropole, or any other hotel, she w^as wont to 
welcome Major Wilton and his occasional guests as 
some little break in the monotony of lier existence. 

“We must make some change after Christmas,” slie 
thought, “ I could not go on in this way.” 

Meantime, Miss Wilton was constantly at Ashwater, 
while Major Wilton, Mr. Parkyn, and others, dropped 
in often for a friendly chat and a game of whist, when 
half guineas were freely staked and generally won by 
the gallant officer, who often forgot his partner might 
expect a share of the spoil. 

In these dissipations Mr. Parkyn was wont most 
amiably to take part, losing quite recklessly, and find- 
ing himself well repaid by the chance of an occasional 
word with Aileen. To. the Major, indeed, it was clearly 
apparent that the girl might become Mrs. Parkyn any 
day she liked. 

“Go in and win, my boy,” he said to his friend, 
“ you may go farther and fare worse. She has plenty 
of Bone if she have no Blood, and Bone’s the tiling- 
nowadays. Gad, if I were thirty years younger, I’d 
have a try myself.” ■ 

Backed by wliich encouragement Mr. Parkyn had 
a try and was refused, gentlj’, it is true, but with a 
certain stiffness. Ofiei*s of marriage had been plentiful 
that year, and Aileen had grown a little tired of them. 
The right man did not come, and what young woman 
feels inclined to listen to the wrong one? 

“ It will make no difference, I hope,” said the suitor, 
trying to smile. “ We can still be friends, I have 
always tried to be one to you,” and Aileen answered, 
“ he had been very kind she was thinking of his 
suggestion that she should help “ the young people to 
marry.” All the same, she knew she never trusted AIj,'. 
Parkyn,. and never should. She was a true daughter 
of the people, and as such depended on her instinct. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


427 


Still, at intervals the whilom lover came to Ashwater 
as a friend. He did not now seek sweet opportuni- 
ties for secret words, but he talked freely to her as to 
others, and might have been her grandfather, so little 
did her presence affect him. 

One evening, in the early part of December, he ac- 
companied Major Wilton in order to have that pleasant 
game the officer enjoyed, and of which perhaps his 
finances had need. 

Mrs. Desborne never played ; Aileen did not know 
how ; Miss Wilton knew, but always refused to join. 
Mr. Desborne was dealing, and Major Wilton looking 
hungrily at the stakes, when Mr. Parkyn, turning to 
Aileen, said : 

“ By the by, I see a young friend of yours has got 
into serious trouble.” 

“ What friend ? ” asked Aileen, unadvisedly. 

“ Your brother. Dick, as you were in the habit of 
calling him.” 

“ I have no brother.” 

“ Well, yoTir step-brother,” returned Mr. Parkyn, 
sorting his cards. 

“ He is not my step-brother.” 

“ How very particular you are. Mrs. Fermoy^s son, 
at all ©vents.” 

“And how has Mrs. Ferraoy’s son got into trouble ? ” 
asketl Major Wilton, who was disgusted with his hand. 

“ Oh ! only a little burglary ; he was always a bad 
boy. It is your lead, Major.” 

No one spoke, no one asked a question, no one 
even looked at Aileen ; every one tried to appear as 
though not a word had been heard, but all present 
felt as if the gi’ound were rent open at their feet. 

At the first opportunity Aileen slipped from the 
room. When it was clear she did not mean to return, 
Mrs. Desborne laid her hand on Mr. Parkyn’s arm and, 
interrupting the game, asked : 

“Will kindly tell us the meaning of what you 
said just now about Mrs. Fermoy's son.” 


428 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“I ought not to have spoken,” he answered ; “but 
as we are all friends here ” 

“All friends, of course,” agreed the Major. “The 
trick is mine, Parkyn.” 

“ All right. The fact is, Mrs. Desborne, this young- 
fellow has never been over-honest, and in this evening’s 
paper I see he was to-day brought up at Wandsworth 
police court on remand, and committed for trial. Good 
thing Miss Fermoy cut them all.” 

If it had been midsummer instead of midwinter, 
Aileen could not have felt the heat of the room into 
which she locked herself more insupportable than was 
the case. Her head seemed on fire ; her hands burned 
like one in a fever. She flung wide the window and 
leaned out, but the night air could not cool her cheeks, 
the silence soothe such a passion of shame and grief 
and impotent fury as surged through her bref^t. This 
was the man’s revenge, tliis was what he had been 
waiting for, and “what harm did I ever do him?” 
thought the girl. 

Some one tapped at her door, and Miss Wilton said, 
“ Aileen, darling, let me in, I want to speak to you,” 
but she took no notice, and the girl, after making an- 
other effort, went away. 

Presently Major Wilton’s voice sounded in tlie hall, 
the visitors were going. It was a fine night, and Mr. 
and Mrs. Desborne walked with them as far as the 
postern gate, which cut off a piece of the road home. 

Aileen heard them walking beneath her window, 
then the noise of their footsteps died away, and the sad 
moan of the stream fell on her ear. How happy she 
had been when she first knew the reason of that con- 
tinuous murmur, but “ she would never be happy 
again,” and the girl’s eyes filled with tears, drawn from 
the deep self-pity of youth. 

By and l)y, through the night came the sound of 
Mr. and Mrs. Desborne returning ; nearer and nearer 
they drew till they passed close under where she knelt, 
her head resting on the window-sill. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


429 


Mrs, Desborne was speaking passionately, more an- 
grily than Aileen thought she could speak. 

“ You wHS^.rid me of her,” she said. “From the 
first I objected, as you know, but now I insist on her 
leaving. I cannot and will not endure the disgrace of 
having such a person in the house.*’ 

She had paused for an instant to give emphasis to 
her words, and now went on again. Mr. Desborne 
tried to speak, strove to expostulate, in vain. Mrs. 
Desborne recommenced the story of her wrongs, but 
Aileen heard no more. Husband and wife turned the 
corner of the house and came in through the hall- 
door. Then there was silence. 

Aileen did not pause ; she made up her mind. She 
did not stop even to bathe away the traces of tears, 
she shot back the lock, ran down-stairs, and re- 
entered the room she had left about half an hour pre- 
viously. 

Ml'S. Desborne was sitting in an armchair, Mr. Des- 
borne was standing beside the fire. Miss Simpson was 
rolling up her knitting ; the picture jfiiotographed it- 
self on Aileen’s brain, many and many a time in after 
years it recurred to her, though she was not aware she 
saw it then. 

“I want to tell you, ma’am,” she began, address- 
ing Mrs. Desborne in her soft, low voice, reverting 
to the old form of speech Miss Simpson had tried 
so hard to correct, “ that I am going to-morrow. 

I thought I’d like to bid you good-by, and thank 
you for all kindness, and ask your pardon for bring- 
ing the talk of disgrace under your roof. I ought 
never to have come here, but it is too late to un- 
do that now, and— -I — think — I’ll say no more.” 
Her words trailed away and she turned to leave the 
room. 

Mrs. Desborne had risen and so had Miss Simpson, 
but both were too much surprised to speak, therefore 
it was Mr. Desborne who, inexpressibly shocked, ex- 
claimed : 


430 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“You poor, dear child,” while trying to detain her. 

But Aileen put him aside and, saying gently, “ please 
don’t, sir,” passed into the hall, followed by Miss Simp- 
son who, touched to the heart, had made up her mind 
to follow the girl wherever she went. 


CHAPTEK XXXn. 


IN THE EMBANKMENT GARDENS. 

They went abroad for some months, and returned 
home at the beginning of May. During that time they 
visited Biarritz, Hyeres, Monte Carlo, Nice, and Rome, 
which were all, of course, as new worlds to Aileeii. They 
might have remained longer in each place, and perhaps 
taken up their residence altogether on the continent, 
but for the fact that Miss Simpson’s knowledge of any 
language save her own was of that somewhat common 
description which, though useful, not to say impress- 
ive, in English home-life, proves totally unserviceable 
when employed in peaceful warfare, among the natives 
of a foreign state. Though her linguistic abilities were 
so great that she could actually read Moliere and a 
little of Dante in the original, without a dictionary at 
her elbow, the lady quite failed to make her wishes un- 
derstood when those wishes soared above a railway 
ticket, something to eat, and a room wherein to sleep. 
The further she and her companion travelled the worse 
grew their state, and Aileen, quite weary of being in- 
formed by her friend either that she did not exactly 
understand or that the people to whom she essayed to 
talk could not comprehend at all, felt very thankful 
when she saw England once more. 

She had thought out her plans for the future and de- 
cided to try \vhether her little estate in Hampshire 
might not prove a pleasant residence. 

“We can take lodgings for a few weeks in London,” 
she said, “and buy furniture and different things,” and 
the notion seemed delightful to Miss Simpson, who 


432 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


knew she need never now dread being turned out in 
the cold to starve or look for a situation. Aileen had 
told her to ascertain what an annuity would cost, and 
handed her money to buy one. 

“ With as little fuss as though she were only giving 
me a knitted scarf,” remarked the poor lady to Mr. Des- 
borne. “ She said she wanted me to feel free to leave 
her if I liked, as though I should ever like to leave 
so sweet a creature.” 

They spent some delightful weeks in London shop- 
ping, going to places of amusement, seeing all the 
sights ; foreign travel had rubbed a good deal of insu- 
lar rust off Aileen and taught her a much-needed les- 
son, viz., that it is well for a woman to get into the 
habit of enjojung herself. There was no reason why 
she should not do so — she had youth, she had money, 
she had lost her dread of the Callorans, she had done 
her best to help the whole family, tried to act gener- 
ously by her father’s widow. By being miserable she 
could benefit no one, the joy-bells of life w^ere ringing 
for her, ringing loud and clear. Why should she shut 
her ears to them ? Why mope indoors while the sun 
of youth w^as shining ? Why not try to find a place 
and fill it with sweet content, a place, say in Hampshire 
for part of the year, in London or somewhere else for an- 
other portion. Why not search out masters who could 
teach her a little of the speech of other countries? 
Wliy not get somewhat more like other people and 
shake herself free from those terrible memories of un- 
congenial association and weary work and ceaseless 
anxiety, that had so long weighed down her spirits and 
made her feel almost ashamed when people spoke kind- 
ly to her? 

Yes, she would do all these things, and so she went 
about buying and sight-seeing and watching the bril- 
liant spectacle that London in the season presents. To 
^liss Simpson’s inexpressible delight she hired a car- 
riage, and they drove daily almost in the park and saw 
beautiful women and lovely girls and good-looking 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


433 


men, and celebrities, and notorieties, and all sorts and 
conditions of people from Royalty down to Royalty’s 
meanest subject. 

One thing, however, Aileen did not do — visit ; be- 
cause she had no one to visit. That fact, however, 
troubled her but little. Society might come in time ; 
she thought she would like best to form friends in the 
country. 

Miss Wilton came up and shopped and drove and 
saw sights with them in the most affable manner pos- 
sible. Major Wilton called and made himself most 
agreeable. 

“ We’ve lost the Desbornes — I suppose Carrie told 
you ? ” he said, when he had accepted a cup of tea from 
Miss Simpson’s fair hands and declai*ed it was just like 
old times. 

“ We only just saw Miss Wilton on Tuesday,” ex- 
claimed Miss Simpson. “ She is going to give us a 
long afternoon next week — what were you beginning 
to say about the Desbornes ? ” 

“ Oh ! he has let or sold Ashwater, could not waste 
the time travelling up and down between us three. I 
think he did a wise thing. Madam was going the pace, 
running up bills everywhere, in debt all round the 
neighborhood, Richmond, Kingston, Twickenham, and 
the rest of it. How some people get such credit I 
can’t imagine, but the Harlingfords are famous for 
that sort of thing. If Desborue had not a princely 
income she’d have ruined him long ago, I assure you,” 
and the Major set down his cup that he might the 
better give expression to several choice bits of gossip 
which referred to Mrs. Desborne’s extravagance. 

“ He looks very ill,” commented Miss Simpson. 

“ Never got over his uncle’s death, highly creditable 
and so on ; besides, he works too hard and ” 

“ And when is the wedding to be ? ” asked Aileen as 
a distraction. 

“July,” was the answer. “In August I leave the 
house to our young folks. Any place will do for me. 


484 


TEE HEAD OF TEE FIRM. 


and Vernbam likes Homewood. He intends to pay a 
fair rent of course, doing so splendidly he can afford 
that, and there is nothing like business after all. Set 
a concern going and it rolls along of itself ! ” 

“ Where are the Desbornes now ? ” asked Miss 
Simpson. 

“ York Terrace again, and just as well there as any- 
where. What does a lawyer or a lawyer’s wife want 
with fashion ? If Mrs. Desborne wanted fashion 
she ought not to have married a lawyer. Seen Vein- 
ham yet ? V 

“ He was here yesterday evening.” 

Looks well, doesn’t he, and happy, eh ? ” 

“ He does indeed,” said Aileen, to whom the obser- 
vation was addressed. 

“He’ll find no nonsense and extravagance about 
Carrie. She can lide a horse, drive a horse, make an 
omelet, and mix a cocktail better than any woman in 
England, and that’s the sort of wife for a rising young 
fellow— but then, she has been well brought up.” 

Happy Philip Vernham, partner in a fine business, 
which was “ merrily ” rolling along, “engaged to the 
prettiest girl in England, who had been well brought 
up, could ride horses, etc.,” having opened and digested 
his letters one bright forenoon in June, was glancing 
over the Times when a clerk entering handed him a 
telegram. 

“ Reply paid, sir,” he said, and waited. 

Mr. Vernham opened the envelope and read : 

“ Can you meet me at one. Charing Cross Station 
Embankment? Reply. Fekmoy.” 

“ Yes,” he wrote, and re-read the message. “ I won- 
der what she wants,” he thought, but he did not 
think about the matter irritably. Aileen had asked 
him to do so little for her ever, and had been willing 
to do so much for him, he could not have refused any 
request she preferred. Still he marvelled. “Some 
fresh difficulty about those Callorans, no doubt,” ran 
his mental solution. 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


435 


Aileen was waiting for him, looking very pale and 
greatly troubled. 

“ You want me,” he said, ** and I am here. What 
has gone wrong ? ” 

“Let us go into the Gardens, we can talk more 
quietly,” she answered. They went into the almost 
deserted enclosure walking side by side, she not look- 
ing at him but he looking at her and thinking, 
faithful lover though he was, how sweet and refined 
she had grown, what a marvellous change prosperity 
had wrought in her appearance, though not in her 
heart. 

“ Shall we sit down ? ” she asked. He assented, and 
they sat down. 

“ Tell me what it is,” said Philip, in a voice full of 
concern. She did not speak immediately, so when she 
found her voice it was to inquire, irrelevantly, he im- 
agined, “ Have you seen Caroline lately ? ” 

“ I saw her on Saturday. Why?” 

Aileen sat silent as if considering, and he repeated, 
“ Why did you ask me that question ? ” 

“ Have you heard from her since ? ” 

“ No. Good Heavens ! what are you trying to tell 

me, Aileen, is she —is she ill -” 

“ She is not ill.” 

“ Are you certain ? Do you want to break anything 

to me — is she dead ” 

“ She is not dead.” 

“ Not ill, not dead ! ” he exclaimed, relieved, “ then 
I defy your news, let it be what it will. But why do 
you speak of Caroline at all ? ” 

“ Because she ” 

“Ye's, because she — goon.” 

“ Because she was married this morning.” 

She turned her head aside lest she should see his 
distress, but he caught her arm in such a grasp she 
was forced to raise iier eyes. 

“ Who told you that poor jest? ” he said, hoarsely. 

“ She did.” ■ 


436 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


“ Then of course it is a joke, not a good one, but 
still ” 

“ I thought, I hoped it might be what you say, but 
I went straight to the church ’’ 

“What church?” 

“St. Martin ’s-in-th e-Fields, and there it was.” 

She heard his breath come and go, heard him pant 
heavily like one who has run fast and far. Not knowing 
what he did he rose, and she rose too and stood — silent. 

“Who is the man,” he asked, when he could speak. 

Mr. Parkyn.” 

“ Mr. Parkyn,” repeated Philip, dropping again on 
the seat and covering his face with his hands. “ Mr. 
Parkyn.” 

Time went on, people passed and repassed, came into 
the Gardens and departed out of them, but still the man 
and woman did not stir. He had forgotten where he 
was, with whom he was, he knew of no companion save 
crushing grief, but at last he raised a white, haggard 
face, and said, “ Will you leave me, please?” Then 
she went. 


CHAPTER XXXm. 


A LITTLE DINNER PARTY. 

Backward and forward, to and fro, slowly swung tlie 
world’s great ^ pendulum, and it was again June, the 
June following that when Caroline Wilton weary, as 
she confessed, of a lover who did not care to inquire 
"wliat “ the odds were ” or who was “ favorite,” or who 
had been “scratched,” made utter shipwreck of her own 
life and well-nigh brought Philip Vernham' to the grave. 

He would have died but for Augustus Tripsdale, who 
never left his bedside till the fever ‘had rim its course, 
and who, when the doctor ordered change of air, car- 
ried him down to a quiet farm-house in Hampshire, not 
very far from the place where Aileen and Miss Simpson 
lived a peacefully quiet life, beloved and respected by 
rich and poor. At heart Gus was a matchmaker. He 
always said he made that match, which was true, though 
Philip never thought in those days of Aileen as a wife, 
only as the dearest, truest friend man ever found in 
trouble. 

Indeed, many persons had enough to think about 
that summer without considering marrying or giving 
in marriage. If was a season when men’s hearts failed 
them for fear, great houses fell with a crash, companies 
collapsed, people refused to invest and men grew sus- 
picious, but through all the House of Desborne con- 
tinued to do well, to attract fresh clients and please old 
ones, to pay its clerks and to hold its head higher than 
ever. It was during that summer Mr. Tripsdale made 
a great coup. He persuaded Miss Fermoy to with- 
draw ten thousand pounds worth of bonds from Mr. 


438 


THE, HE AD OF THE FIRM. 


Desborne’s custody, and give them sealed up to Mr. 
Vernham, with a request that, even should she wish to 
have them back, he would refuse to gratify her desire 
till after the expiry of three years. Philip did not 
know what was in the parcel which he deposited among 
other papers with his bankers. For he had waxed ex- 
ceeding prosperous. A man cannot be lucky both in 
love and war, and as he had been eminently unlucky 
in love, it was only fair he should win in the commercial 
battle, and stand firm when many houses failed to do 
so. - 

Mr. Tripsdale felt very proud of his achievement, 
and walked home one especial Saturday with the air of 
a man possessed of more knowledge than the world 
could well contain, but he said nothing ; true wisdom 
is ever chary of speech. 

That same evening Mr. Desborne gave a dinner 
party. There were only gentlemen present — men he 
was anxious to cultivate ; men he had too long ne- 
glected ; men of weight in the city ; men of mark, 
cast - of The Griffin. It was a pleasant party, and as 
some of the guests talked well some of them listened 
well. There were few pauses in the conversation, and 
a second’s lull sometimes makes after-talk all the pleas- 
anter. 

It was during one of these lulls that a sharp-looking 
city man, Mackill by name, who had been burning to 
start some topic all by himself, bethought him of a re- 
cent purchase and burst out with : 

“ By the way, Desborne, I bought a safe the other 
day — one of Tame’s.” 

“A very good maker, I believe,” said Mr. Desborne, 
politely. 

“It was sent home this morning, so I think I may 
as well have those deeds of mine now. I will look in 
on Monday and take them away.” 

Mr. Desborne had lifted his wine-glass as the other 
began to speak, and did not answer till he set it down 
again, then, as he wiped his lips, he said : 


THE HEAD OF THE FIEM. 


439 


“ Don’t call on Monday, because one of my clerks 
has managed to damage the lock of our safe. I sent 
for one of Chubbs’s men this morning, but he says he 
can do nothing till Monday, and I can -get at nothing 
before he puts us to right.” 

“ Tuesday, then,” said the other, and the matter 
dropped. 

All that night Mr. Desborne lay awake, Sunday 
came and he went to church, where he preached a ser- 
mon to himself the while his rector was discoursing 
on a different text —for the end had come. The end 
always does, somehow, no matter how far distant it 
may once have seemed. It was but two years and a 
half since those bills fell due which were met, Mr. 
Tovey still wanted to know how, and what had not 
been thrown to the wolves since then. Wliat, indeed?. 
On Sunday night he slept as a man sleeps before his 
execution, in the still, small hours, when conscience is 
on the alert and comes creeping into darkened rooms 
and talks to wretched men. He awoke and remem- 
bered. He got up early, kissed his sleeping wife, 
went down-stairs, and made a feint of eating some 
breakfast. 

He looked around the familiar room, lie let his gaze 
wander over the lovely park and then passed out of 
the house. He went to Cloak Lane, read his letters, 
gave some instructions, and after saying he would be 
back at two o’clock walked through the clerks’ office 
into the street. He did not return at two, or three, or 
even, in fact, until nearly four years had elapsed, when 
he appeared one day at a West End police office and 
said he wished to give, hiniself up. 

‘‘ For what ? ” asked the inspector. 

‘^ Embezzlement, I suppose you would call it. My 
name is Desborne.” 

Then the inspector remembered this was the man 
against whom there had been a warrant out for so long, 
tiie man there had been a lot of talk about, who had 
so successfully eluded justice. 


440 


THE HEAD OF THE FIBM, 


“ I will give you no trouble,” he said, ‘‘make the 
business as short as you can.” 

His desire was gratified. He had only one remand, 
on his second appearance before the then Lord Mayor 
he was committed for trial at the Central Criminal 
Court. He bore up pretty well at first, but as time 
went on fell into a sullen mood and refused to speak. 

“He takes it very badly now,” said a communicative 
turnkey. “ He carried it off when he came in, but 
then, no man knows what it is to be locked up till he 
tries it.” 


CHAPTER XXXIV. ‘ ; ' 

^ ^ ' CONCLUSION. ; ’ , 

The court was not inconveniently crowded ; the 
prisoner had been too long awa}^ the story of his crime 
was too stale, a score and more of “ interesting ” cases 
had swayed the minds and tickled the ears of London- 
ers since that afternoon when rumors of Mr. Des- 
borne’s flight excited the city, less prone to be 
excited than the West End. 

For in his way he was a notable man, a man much 
liked, a man much loved ! Except some of those who 
lost money, very few found a hard word to say con- 
cerning him. In many cases the majority of city folk 
are very lenient. They knew the stress of the battle, 
the fierceness of the fight, the might of the temptation. 
Who better? Moreover, when one man loses no money 
through another it is easy to be merciful, and though 
Mr. Desborne’s defalcations were heavy his creditors 
might have been “covered with a table cloth.” Further, 
most working days tliere are in the Lord Mayor’s king- 
dom such a number of bad, black goats that might 
with advantage be cast forth into that outer wilderness, 
where compassion would never think of following them, 
bearing on their backs all the sins of all lesser sinners, 
that when a comparatively unhardened offender goes 
wrong it might be wrong to deal out the same measure 
of social ostracism which the others deserve but often 
fail to receive. It was for this reason more men said, 
“Poor fellow,” or “Poor devil,” than “What a black- 
guard.” He had fallen and people were sorry ; others 
fail and people are glad. 


442 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


Fashion did not affect the Old Bailey that morning* 
when his case was to come on. 

At the best, Mr. Desborne’s had not been an inter- 
esting crime. A divorce, a scandal, an assault, an in- 
trigue, would have roused fine ladies from sleep and 
brought them j^ast the law courts, past the dragon, past 
the site of the old Fleet prison, into that inconvenient 
building hard by Newgate, where many a notable pris- 
oner has listened to his death-sentence. 

Thither they would have flocked, armed with opera- 
glasses and provided with sandwiches, but as “the 
man ” had only taken money from other men and from 
a girl who was nobody, ladies proved happily conspic- 
uous by their absence, and their vacant jDlaces were 
filled by barristers, solicitors, and a few business men 
who, having known the Desbornes, snatched a few 
moments in order to hear what Mr. Burbuiy, Q. 0., 
would say in mitigation of sentence. 

For it was indeed that great legal luminary who had 
been retained for the prisoner by Mrs. Vernham— so 
said those who were supposed to be behind the scenes 
— whose unfaltering loyalty to the man who had robbed 
her was the theme of all tongues. Faithful friendship 
must surely be a most uncommon product of our civil- 
ization, to judge from the admiration it excited on the 
rare occasions when exhibited. 

Poor Aileen ! she had always been unfashionable 
and unconventional, and in this latest departure 
the world felt she had surpassed herself. There 
were she and Mr. Vernham sitting in the body of 
the court, Mr. Birdlow was there and Mr. Mackill 
also. ' 

Besides these principal characters in the sad little 
drama many a supernumerary found standing room in 
the small court ; Mr. Knyvitt, grown stout and arro- 
gant; Mr. Tripsdale, improved and subdued by the 
honors which had been thrust upon him in many recent 
cases, notably that of Darcy v. Fluke and Begin a v. 
Printon. He had climbed the hill of legal fame very 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM, 


443 


rapidly, and his name was much dreaded by gentry 
who had anything to conceal. 

“ He was down on them like a custom-house officer,” 
to quote Mr. Packle’s admiring phrase. He had an 
unerring instinct which enabled him to lay his fing^er 
on the weak spot. There was but one person he could 
not impress — Polly, now Mrs. Reginald Tripsdale, in 
whom familiarity had bred contempt. “ Don’t talk to 
me,” she was wont to say, and Mr. Tripsdale did not. 
His role in married life was to listen to her. 

Gus was there also, but not sketching. He would 
have liked to tear his pencil away from the man who 
he saw was “ doing ” Mr. and Mrs. Vernliam for “ The 
Hourly Indicator,” a very successful “ half-penny hit,” 
just started. The Judge was there, looking like Fate. 
Oif the bench a kinder or more genial soul never ex- 
isted, but on it he knew no fear nor favor. 

“ Let justice be done though the Heavens should fall,” 
might have been his motto, so well did he act up to it. 

Justice was his war cry, the faith which inspired, the 
word which compelled him. 

Had his first born, or the wife of his bosom, or the 
white-haired man, his father, come before him, he 
would have dealt out even-handed justice, and never 
permitted the scales he held to tremble toward the side 
of mercy. 

Mr. Desborne had known him well in the old days. 
It was only since his misfortune, shall we say, which 
Judge Merrier would have called a different name, 
that by an irony of fate his former friend had been 
raised to the bench. 

There was an instant’s pause, then, as if by one con- 
sent, every head turned toward the dock. No, not 
every head ; Philip Vernham kept his eyes fixed on the 
window, while Aileen looked resolutely at the floor. 
She knew who had come to face his disgrace, a pain 
like that of death thrilled through her, then she 
glanced at the place where he stood pale, white-haired, 
and impassive. 


444 


THE HEAD OF THE FIUM. 


She forced her lips to smile, but he gave no sign in 
return. There were friends all around him, even the 
warders had been moved to symi^athy. Many a face 
softened at sight of the change a few years had 
wrought, but the man himself betrayed no emotion. 
It was as Philip had been told. Alone of all in that 
court, the person most concerned remained unmoved ; 
over his once mobile features a mask seemed drawn. 
He was utterly impassive. He did not seem to feel 
his position ; he did not look at any thing or any per- 
son. When the jailor touched him he moved, but of 
his own accord he did nothing ; a statue could not 
have evidenced greater indifference to the proceedings 
than he. * - 

And yet it was not like indifference. It seemed 
more, as though the long anguish had stupefied him 
and made that supreme moment, when he was brought 
forward in the sight of men to answer for his crime, 
appear of as slight consequence, as though he were 
under the influence of some narcotic. 

When asked to plead he could with difficulty be 
made to understand what was required, and when at 
last he was induced to answer, it was in so low a tone 
the constable beside him had to repeat the word 
“guilty,” for the edification of the court. 

Then Mr. Belford, instructed by the Solicitor to the 
Treasury, rose and began his statement, which was a 
very temperate one. He did not rave about the mat- 
ter, or aught set down in malice, but he told the 
truth, and the truth was very bad indeed. He. spoke 
of the firm, so long trusted, so highly thought of that 
the word of a Desborne would by many have been 
more readily believed than the oath of other men. 
Clients left their title deeds and securities with them, 
and felt they were as safe as in the strong room of the 
Bank of England. As a rule, clients did repose this 
unbounded confidence in their solicitors, and he 
thanked God that, as a rule, solicitors proved them- 
selves worthy of this generous confidence. It would 


445 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 

be a sad day for England, it would be a disastrous day 
for the members of an honorable profession, when 
men felt they could no longer regard their honesty as 
above suspicion, and the worst feature in this truly 
lamentable case is the slur cast by the unhappy pris- 
oner in the dock on the profession of which he was 
once a distinguished member. “Although,” he went 
on “ the conduct of the prisoner more resembled that 
of a lunatic than any course ordinarily pursued by a 
rational being, there is not the slightest doubt but that 
during the whole time when he was appropriating 
other persons’ moneys to his own use he was in per- 
fect possession of his faculties. He used all means to 
avert discovery ; he replaced one security with another 
in the cleverest manner ; he attended to his proper 
business, and turned a good face to the world all the 
time he was acting the part of a common thief, and it 
was only when the game was played out to the last 
card, and detection beicame unavoidable, that he ab- 
sconded, leaving his dupes to find out for themselves 
the extent of the ruin he had wrought. There is no 
desire, I understand, on the part of any of those who 
have lost heavily to act vindictively ; but, in the inter- 
ests of justice, if the law is not to become a dead let- 
ter, if a liigh standard is to be maintained in the pro- 
fession Edward Desbonie has disgi’aced, I feel bound 
to press for an exemplary sentence, such a sentence as 
may serve to warn others breach of trust is a crime of 
so deadly and dangerous a nature that it must be pun- 
ished with severity.” 

“ What is the total amount of the deficiency, Mr. 
Belford ? ” asked Mr. Justice Merrier. 

“ Over one hundred thousand pounds, my Lord,” 
at which there was a little stir in court as when a 
light wind rustles the leaves. Every one had known 
the amount before, but it sounded different, somehow, 
in that cold, legal atmosphere. 

Then up rose the great Burbury, Q. C., who was 
personally a burly man, possessed of an eye, voice, and 


446 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


manner calculated to inspire evil-doers with dread, and 
to wring the very hearts out of reluctant witnesses. 
No one knew better than he there was not in the case 
a “ leg left to stand on.” No one could be more fully 
aware than himself, that he might as well discourse to 
the winds as talk sentiment to Mr. Justice Merrier. 
He would cheerfully have given five times the fee, 
which, though a chronically impecunious man, he had 
refused to accept, if it could only have fallen to his lot 
to address a jury instead of “ that figurehead of fate,” 
as he mentally styled His Lordship. 

What could he not have clone with a jury? He 
would have conjured up the ghosts of departed mothers, 
the sweet faces of living wives, the pictures of inno- 
cent children ; he would have made wrong seem right, 
he would have spoken to them about their hearths and 
homes, he would have talked to them about the Great 
Day of Judgment, he would have appealed from Earth 
to Heaven, he would have adjured them to be merci- 
ful as they hoped for mercy, but, knowing all this was 
impossible, he said that although well aware excuse 
was impossible he would venture to put a few facts 
before his Lordship, in order to prove Edward Des- 
borne was not deserving of all the hard things his 
learned friends had said about him. 

“ It was unnecessary,” he began, “ to refer more par- 
ticularly to the firm of Desborne, because every one 
who knew the city knew how unimpeachable the char- 
acter of that firm had been.” 

From generation to generation, from father to son, 
that character had been handed down a precious pos- 
session. It was reserved for Edward Desborne, the 
brightest, the most gifted, the most lovable, the most 
honorable, as at one time men who knew him best 
would have said and said rightly, of all his race to take 
the first step from virtue. He, the speaker, had knowm 
the unhappy prisoner since he was a boy. He remem- 
bered well the hopes which clustered around him, he rec- 
ollected the handsome lad when he brought home his 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 447 

■first prizes. Ah I who would have thought that he would 
ever be arraigned as a felon ? I’m not the person 
who ought to have been entrusted with this painful 
task,” he said, “because Edward Desborne was ever 
too near and dear to me to permit of mv discharging 
so. hard a duty in a fitting manner. My feelings over- 
power me, my Lord. lam now pleading, not as a 
counsel for an erring client, but as a father for a son 
of whom he was once only too proiid. I was proud 
and fond of him, and I am fond of him still. There 
are some who never can succeed in estranging our af- 
fections. I believe there are many in court wlio, 
spite of all, would say they love him still.” Here 
emotion choked Mr. Burbury, and the pause he made 
was effectively filled by a low sob, which Aileen vainly 
tried to smotlier. 

That helped counsel mightily. Without further 
check he told of Edward Desho rue’s kindness. Who 
ever went to him for help and came away empty? Tlie 
high, the low, the rich, the poor were in some sort all 
his debtors. “ Time would fail me to tell of what he 
was. Judge, my Lord, of what it must be to such a 
man to be what he is. I need not remind any one 
present of the old proverb which tells us ‘ easy is the 
slope to Hell.’ This naan— weak, amiable, liopeful, 
found that slope only too easy. His was the old, old 
story. He never meant to do wrong, but he did 
wrong; he intended to replace, he could not replace. 
The whole trouble began with a comparatively small 
amount pf debt. - It is a way trouble very often begins, 
as many persons know only too well. 

“ In-order to relieve himself of embarrassment Mr. 
Desborne ajaplied to a gentlemen in the habit of lend- 
ing money, who advanced a , sum sufficient to meet 
those pressing liabilities. When the acceptances given 
in exchange fell due, the required amount was not in 
the, acceptor’s possession, a circumstance so usual th.at 
I really ought, to apologize for mentioning it. 

“ The drawer of those bills is in court, and would tell 


44:8 


TEE HEAD OF TEE FIRM, 


you if Mr. Desborne bad only gone to him, all anxiety 
might have been avoided. Unfortunately, Mr. Des- 
borne did not go to him ; that also is the usual thing — 
somehow debtors never do go. It is the same with all 
troubles, physical, financial, mental, and moral— the 
sufferer never will speak. Mr. Desborne did not speak, 
instead, he used, intending to make good, money be- 
longing to a client, money which at the moment was 
lying idle.” 

From that point Mr. Burbury found what he had 
to say plain sailing. He told how Mr. Thomas Des- 
borne, always supposed to be a sort of millionaire, 
died, leaving onl}^ a few thousands ; how Mr. Desborne 
tried to retrieve his shattered fortunes by speculating, 
unhappily, but with his own money ; how he at first 
proved successful ; how the tide turned ; how he fell 
among thieves ; how the more he lost the more desper- 
ately he staked ; how he made good one secnrity by 
pledging another ; how he mortgaged title deeds to re- 
deem bonds and sold bonds to complete purchases. It 
was a terrible story, to which Mr. Desborne listened 
unmoved, his face not even softening when counsel told 
the beautiful tale of woman’s forgiveness and gener- 
osity, and said Aileen, who had lost seventy thousand 
pounds, was in court that day, not to ask for revenge, 
but to plead for leniency. No one felt vindictively 
toward this stricken man. “ Oh ! ray Lord, will you not, 
remembering what he has suffered, what he must suf- 
fer, temper justice with mercy and inflict such a sen- 
tence as, while marking your sense of his guilt, may not 
totally deprive him of the power of making amends for 
the past, and proving the sincerity of his repentance in 
the future ? ” 

Mr. Burbury sat down, and Mr. Justice Merrier 
spoke. In two minutes he had brushed away all the 
learned counsel took such pains to hang about a “ very 
simple matter.” In his, the Judges, opinion all the 
plans put forward in extenuation of his crime were ag- 
gravations of it. He was not an ignorant man, he had 


THE BEAD OF THE FIRM. 


m 

not been brought up among those who entertained lax 
notions on the subject of honesty. If education were 
of any use, if talent, culture, an honorable family 
record were things of any avail, he was bound to be 
commonly honest, and he had proved himself to be 
extraordinarily dishonest. Still he, the Judge, did not 
desire to disregard the strong appeal for mercy which 
had been made. He remembered that he had sur- 
rendered of his own free will, that the principal suf- 
ferer refused to prosecute, that imprisonment to a man 
of his antecedents meant much more than it could to 
one differently brought up, and though he had the 
power to inflict twenty years’ penal servitude, he 
thought the justice of the case would be met by a 
lighter sentence. “ You will therefore,” he went on, 
“ be imprisoned for flve years at hard labor.” 

And then a wonderful, an unprecedented thing hap- 
pened. While the Judge was speaking a ray of light 
seemed to come on the prisoner’s face, lighting it up 
with a sort of wintry sunshine. His features relaxed, 
the impassiveness of his attitude and expression 
changed, he gazed at the bench eagerly, as one who 
hears from a distance the sound of a familiar voice, 
and as the last word of the sentence died away the 
string of his tongue was loosed and, throwing his arms 
over the front of the dock, he cried : 

“Ah ! Merrier, and how are you? I did not know 
you, really I did not. And you too, Burbury, and you 
Morton, why, all my old friends are here. Come and 
dine with me ; do, fix your own day. I have not been 
very well for some little time, but it makes me so glad to 
see your familiar faces again,” and so he ran on like a 
watch in which tlie spring is broken while every one in 
court, from the Judge downward, looked aghast, and 
even the warders seemed scarcely to know what ought 
to be done. As they strove to remove him, the unfort- 
unate man clung to the dock, babbling, babbling, 
babbling on. At his first words Aileen had risen, then, 
in spite of her husband’s restraining touch, stepped to 


450 


THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. 


the dock. She did not remember the Judge, she did 
not see the barristers or officials or spectators — she 
only saw Edward Desborne, sentenced by man, stricken 
by God. 

“ Aileen, my good Aileen, is it really you ? ” he said 
joyously, holding out his hands to grasp hers. 

“ Yes, I am here,” she answered, glancing at the 
warders, “ and I want you to do something for me. I 
cannot tell you what it is here, but if you go with those 
gentlemen I will meet you at the other side.” 

“ Yes, the lady will meet you,” said the jailor, taking 
his arm and leading him away. 

That was the last most of those present ever saw of 
the Head of the Firm. There are a few though, now 
and then, who journey down into Hampshire to pay sad 
visits to a prematurely old man, who walks over 'the 
Downs with Miss Simpson, or rambles about the lawn 
and gardens with Aileen and her children. Not an un- 
happy man, but one who delights in the blue sky and 
the green trees and flowers and birds in summer and 
winter, seed time and harvest, frost and snow. At 
intervals, however, he wanders away to some high 
place and looks long and earnestly into the far dis- 
tance, as if he saw there his lost reason which can re- 
turn to him nevermore. 


THE END. 


THE HEID-OE THE FIRM 

9‘ 


< 


BY 

MES. J. H. EIDDELL 




NEW YORK 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 
150 Worth Street 











» • , 






?, 




F’’/ ' v;- 

y'^ ds 


s'- t * ,, * ’ •* i t ' \ - tjpLJL ‘ 

.j”. L. ( ■, .I .*^ . • -. Ji’ i: , ■• . . "-i. '. 

« ' • . • - « 


k . .. ,, 4 i . 

♦ ^ , • r ^ 


& 


^ • 



• 7 % 


<1 


• »' ••' 


A t 


r*< 


.... •'■■' 


■ 





j,.. •.-, .. 

' I 

4*. * A* 


• « 


« • 


», 


' kW 






* 'I 


V* 


►. .'■ ■* 


‘•,i> 



ir 






n .1 



Va-. 




A 


V r 


« t 





^ > 


^ • • 


1 ’ ^ . 


li#‘ '-.S’;,'. 


* 4 


7 


< 


\ . 


* V* * 


*»'**'- 



K . 


v 




l->. 


■M ' >L 


s - 


•». 



'> • A -*' *'"^1 



If 






\ : ^iv ;. 1 


'. . V 



’•T r-" 


‘•' • '4'. 


' • 




•/’> 






'i • * • 


'in' . 

4' Ivl'V" 























/ ,/% °. 55 P." 


vr* 

* . vV - ' 

^ -o r;'- •-> 

. 0 N C ^ ^ ^ ^ « V ' B < ^< 5 , 

Cr v^ /V^Or. ^ 

^ N- ^/r/Tp^ ^ ^ 

r 




C P> 


^ ^ ' Kc. 4 S ^ 

Qfi. - ^ 

I,r>y7\ B>, • • -<1 nWL'" 

' \= 


a'^' T- 
^ ^ «a < 

,V 


> 


" 


V ' 

V\ ^ 0 ^ C 


■" 00 ' 


\ -'X‘ 

\ . S 


- : ,oo^, . 


> cl' 1 , . V' 'v 

> ^ rv 

.O N 0 ’" ^0 0 i. , 

\> ^'> 1 ^'-'/ -* . 0 ^ V 

V, ^ ’■ 1,*^ '%• 



V 

'A ^ 

, ^ '^my^ \ .V 



v^' 

0 /Tx 

iA\^ ^■y’-f*^^ 
A \D^C/Ti iaasLj 

te /■ 

1 |L y* 
jS. <* 

^ V 

00^ 

*)■ 

0 

»> 

i®°x. 


<* 

IF 'fc. 

\ V ^ 


^ C'*^ 


/iy' ^ 


\^ s ■» <• , 
.s' ' 


':> Ai'^' - k 

^ ^ 1 / 


' •#' '. % 

• *x, ^ ^ <?’ 

A ^ 

^ c°~ ^ '* .o"^ ^•' ' * * 




^ 0 ^ \ \ 
A' 




a' 


vV ^ 



\^ ^ ^ ^ '• ^ « A V^ X ^ 

' <V^ ^ „ ( 3 ^ ^ ^ *r. '^. v'> 

^ ^ z: / ^ ^' 

c. X* 



^ 5 A ‘^:> ^ 

« o 0 » 

i> 


'^-v-' f 4 . 

> = )v0 °x. - <S 

0 ^" 

A ^ jA^i" ’ K. ^'r \\' 

^5 , 4 \\ «< - n. o ^ 








^ ^ \V 


b \r y 


Vtfii ^ ^ ^ a\^ 0 ^ g' “V- 

' L- ^ a^/r?:^ \c v^ - ^ 

-< '^ ^ o 

« 




JyQ <=<<. - 



V- 


s *v 


o 

z 

o 


^ V ^ 

\ * K ^ ^ <v <r • . 1 p 

O i » V ' - _ /vT-i-, ^ 




' * V ^ 4 . * * i 1 • > * » 1 !► 

» AcVr^ » t 

,1 } ^ t > li* ^ 

. . ‘ • ' : * \ . j . ‘ ‘ • ■ 

> 1 » . ^ \ I*. ' . I ,► 

• • I . . 

# i l • * '* .i \ 4 ^ » V , f . 

* • 1 ... 1 I , O 

« I. k • i*l te .J L.'* 




» * > 
r. » » 

•* » • 5 ‘ .‘ 

'. i' » * - 

) . » . •. 

. . . - . 

« * •* ’i 


■ i ' 

• I I 
» 


; 4 » 

I* ^ ■ > f 

• . * • • 

. t ’ 'I 

* ^ . J 


♦ • ' » * • ^ . I * • . ' . ; * V 

• i '>4 ' ^ • 1 .** t ' * * • * • 

4 » ’ I • I - . • > . •• • I . . 

: .J : ^ ^ j i - 

■ '! • -N 'i ■ V I * > ■ 

r ^ I.- V. M .’; '• • .•; ■ -Vr . > . • 

L ♦ ' r » » *k ^ ^ • ' 1.1 » « ' I I * * 

,s • • ^ I . . . ^ 4 I • ^ • I « 

X I v 'v* . ' 

4 » I ^ ' r • 1 ‘ ’ i * 

I 4 « • 1 > * » . 1 I ' I i « ‘ * * « i 

I-: ,-'^^^■ V •.' :■•.■■■: i- 

k j «»“ ' • *k . . 1 .* J f I , • • '« ) 

.1 ' . » * ••■ i » j ‘ i ^ . ■ * » * •, • . 


li ‘ k * * * 

> . I . I 

; 

. ' . ."i ■ 


*■:>' 

' . -• i 


; ; ‘J • . ) ;,‘ . K >. 

i-* 4 ‘'» ‘ , > • , ‘ ,.*i ’ , 

/» ^ ^ ^ 4 ► * •» 

M . ' * • ’ 


f ► *“ » I 

♦ • j. ' » » 

B I • « 4 ' i 

^ I I » * I • 

» ^ % t ' k 

^ » • . 1 

' i ' 1 . ii 

' ; ? ^ •>».-• 

• . ^•,.^ » •. ’ 


I * ' . ^ k * 'i r 

»• , ♦ ^ t 

•' * » * J- '* > ^ ' 

i ’ k- - ^ 

\ » ♦ I 

,% A * * « 

I t • • • k . 

. . 1 ‘ • 


* » ' ^ k I 

^ * ' t . * 

* . 4 » . ♦ 

•• f # • ' ' 

k f I* » 

• « f 1 j. 

' ' i » I 

. I t * V ^ ^ 

W • • 1 . > * 

• •.111 t 

.* • I 

. » . , , 

. * » , 


• p * i ' .•• , 

•.r.r. •\>. ‘v 

i • y > . '.’ •*{ ^ ! '*\ ►» 

•I * * • * ** > \ I 4 • V 

• .r; 


• » 

i'i 


4 . I 


• I • 

^ 1 


* • • • . ; / C* # 4 *. • . 4 . 

• •• * . > J ^ J ; 4 * ' . . I f ' 

► ' ; r;> .f M V; M ^ ^ ' 

# ‘ ' • • • * ‘ * 1 V r - V I ' ' f * I ^ « i ; ^ ' } 

% * • I t I * ' * i I*, 

I k. J ? I > > k I * » 

* '. * I » ■ I > V > ■ - - . 

»•• \ >• # ; » » •.!. 

^ I . > . r, 1 . • . . • ► I • . > t 

i-M , ^ V » • -■ ^ ' . 

f I > I' f 4 ' , 4 • . - # 

• ').*»' I . ♦ ' ^ ^ . 

-T. ♦* K. j ,• ••',» j. 

4 h ♦ A I i« ' Jl 4 ’ * ^ ^ ' 

^ ’ t ^ y ; 4 ' f V V ‘ 

4 H ' 4 St k 1 > i A « ' - ^ i . 

’-••l » I ♦ * 1.1 t -• 

• 4 4 >- • • I ) •• -1 • t I i . * I ' 

: ‘ . 4 - V * > / I » 4 • r • I . ' l l I 

^ M ^ ^ ' ; • * 

I ^ » < . • W ' * . t *• * . . « • ^ . 


' ? * I • . ' 

k K. ' . i . i ; . 

4 # A » 


4 . V I* 

k A • ' k 

^ f * 

« 4 ' 

. < • r 

A* I • 

’ 'f ' * ^ • , 

* • , t I 

' . > }■ t 


\ > : 


• ' . 

» .- 


1 

• «. 1 . 

1 

• X 

? ■: 

f 1 . ■ i* 

• 

‘ « ' 


' ' i 

• • 


' r 

» 

< * »• 

i • 

» 

4 * 1 4 - 

» " • • 

^ 1 

1 1 f • • 

t ' . 



1 V » 

y ‘ 

■» ■■ 

I . !• 


. • . 


r’ ^ ^ ? 

■ ; ' ; V M' ' r ‘ 

* •> . •; : i » • » {/ 


' , ' 


f . 

v'»» 

I . 


' t • ’ • 

♦ \y 

• . 

i' } » 

> k < . 


’ .. ‘f 

• i 




4 > 

« I 


i t 

ft 


• * « 
t • 

4 




■' ' > » ' ■ 

^ A L > * 


; » ; 

1l ^ I 

« I 




k % 


. > . .r; 

* {. 


^ - 

i 


* k 

i # 


M I 

> 

% A 


UBRARY OF CONGRESS 


□0DEEa^3EEl 







